


The Snowfall Summer Rendeavor

by Kamu



Series: More Than Air [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Smoking, Supernatural - Freeform, Tragedy, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/Kamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke yearns quietly for the local florist when a half naked pervert hurries the process of confessing by tenfold. </p><p>A story about a brooding angst-ridden Sousuke, a certain brunet with a green thumb, and the unexplained roommate living in his flower shop.</p><p>[Inspiration by Natsuyuki Rendezvous]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: I'm not an Exhibitionist

**Author's Note:**

> I would advise curious readers to visit my kinda new [tumblog](http://kamuwrites.tumblr.com/) for any private spoiler-y questions. The official tag for it will now be found under [#tsfsr fic] if I take the time to update my blog, and readers who follow this story prefer coming from tumblr rather than ao3.
> 
> Warning ahead of time: Pacing will be slow. Updates may vary depending on the time of year. Elements in this story may not be for some people (no gore or graphic things like that, though). Romance is one but not the most important. Sousuke is cringe-worthy poetic and wouldn't hesitate to throw pebbles on his crush's window with a boombox playing his mix-tape of love in the dead of night. Not to imply that this may happen in the near future, but he _would_.
> 
> That is all.

“Er, so which one will you get today, sir?”

“Hm.” Sousuke contemplates the plants on display and points to the first to stand out, a small rounded bunch of baby blue hydrangeas according to the tag. “That one.”

“Great choice!” the brunet cheerfully praises as he claps his hands together. “I’ll ring you up. Would you like it in a basket?”

“No, this is fine.” Sousuke picks the plant around the base of its pot and follows him deeper inside the shop.

“Alright, your change is 62 yen.” The brunet places the coins in his hand and curls his fingers inward. He glances up at Sousuke and beams. “Have a nice day, as always.”

Ah, there’s that killer smile of his. Could knock him flat off his feet if he wasn’t already use to seeing it every day since he stumbled across his botanical flower shop one breezy spring morning. It was the day he realized he was screwed with love sickness of the worst kind: love at first sight.

After a pregnant moment, Sousuke nods curtly in response, albeit abashedly. He leaves the shop just as quickly to the quiet of his small one room flat a few streets down. In it are the various purchases of plants he had accumulated, all in various stages of growth. He’s tried his best to maintain them, but time and resources could not be fought. It’s irresponsible on his part, but having them is worth seeing the brunet for the few minutes spared in his company before he stayed too long for comfort.

All those times, and he never had the chance or courage to ask for his _name_.

It’s embarrassing to say the least, when in the past he had jumped into relationships with vigor and equally with reluctance. To recall, he has had relationships with different types of people, all ending on sour notes.

There was the flamboyant and popular Kisumi, whom Sousuke was convinced he was in love with when he remembered their pleasant childhood together in elementary. His easy going personality made it easy to think he was in love and loved in return.

What finally broke the ice was the unofficial fan base the strawberry blond had and the disturbing passive aggressive threats with contrasting emoticons that blew up his phone and phone bill every hours of the day.

Kisumi had told him not to mind, that what they were doing was cute and he should be flattered by their jealousy. In Sousuke’s eyes, it was unwanted attention and genuine stalker-ish obsession. He was affiliated with the police, goddammit. And he didn’t want to share Kisumi, couldn’t he understand?

That was where the problem lay with Kisumi. He didn’t mind the attention. He adored it. He liked Sousuke, but not enough to discard his fans’ support for him.

Sousuke decided to end it. It was better for them to go separate ways. They remained friends and nothing more. After that, Kisumi would occasionally call him to check on how he was doing and the state of his health, especially more often after he left the force. It’s one of the bittersweet ends Sousuke knows he would not want to go back to.

And then there was Nitori.

He was his junior by a year at the academy, and then his junior at the station. At first, Sousuke thought particularly nothing about him when he had introduced himself. Maybe something rude, like ‘why is his hair cut so messy?’, ‘is he really only a year younger than him?’, and ‘how does one be born with eyes so bright a color?’

Persistence was a stubborn trait in him, and Sousuke eventually gave in. Honestly, the boy (Nitori never really got over that after Sousuke thrice failed to remember his name. He had later upgraded it to pretty boy teasingly) brought out the hidden urge to protect and take care of him. Nitori was disorganized, clumsy, bubbly, and considerate. Frustratingly so.

 **xXx**  

_“Yamazaki-senpai!” Nitori gazes at him suddenly with unwavering determination from his place beside him on their couch. “I confess, I was scared of you when I first met you, because of your natural mean guy frown—“_

_“Hey.”_

_“—but I like to think I fell for you when you easily broke into a smile and said it was nice to meet me. It was a very kind smile.”_

_Sousuke clams up at that, too embarrassed to make a retort. He doesn’t have the same straightforward memory of when he had begun to tolerate,_ ehem _, like the boy, but what matters is he does now. Actually, he remembers rather guiltily, his senior advisor Lieutenant Seijuurou had told him he should be nice to the rookies, and Nitori was the first to approach him._

_How could he know he was in love with just a smile?_

_It troubles him as he frowns outwardly. He tries to pinpoint when exactly he started to think of Nitori as more than the clingy paper boy who looked up to him as a mentor._

_Did he talk to Nitori more out of obligation than interest?_

_He didn’t dwell on it too long as the scene got to the sickeningly emotional part, when the two separated lovers finally reunited in the rain. The boy always was a sobbing mess when scenarios like these happened. Sousuke assumes it was due to his sensitive feelings and easily moved emotions._

_Nitori clings to him now, his eyes glued to the screen and tears glimmering on the edges of his light lashes. His free hand clutches the cord at his neck tightly._

_Sousuke silently hands him a whole box of tissue._

_He receives them gratefully._

_“Thank you,” Nitori wheezes out weakly._

_Sousuke squeezes him tightly to his side in response and comfort._

**xXx**  

He never did understand why those romantic tragedy films got to him so bad. He knows the reason now.

Nitori was projecting someone he had loved in the past onto him. Sousuke immediately thought the boy used him as a substitute and mere replacement for whatever jerk had left him, but when he heard the whole story, his anger diminished tiredly. Among all his other qualities, Nitori was brutally honest and well intentioned. There was nothing wrong in finding comfort in others to heal wounds.

But why did it have to be _him_ of all people _?_

Sousuke was hurt. Later on, after he cooled down, he felt surprisingly heartbroken and sad.

They didn’t say it, but their relationship, whatever they had, ended abruptly and without a word. The toll it took on him was so heavy it affected his social life and flowed into his work.

That was a mistake no one in his field should have made. But he did it, and how he regrets it to this day.

 _(It hurts._ He _hurts._

_But he's fine. There are worse things that could happen._

_Deep down, he still finds himself a little in love with the boy. He would endure this much for the pain he harbors, unknown to everyone else in the world but him.)_

Afterwards, Sousuke officially requested leave from his duties with an additional letter addressed to someone his soon-to-be former superior knew very well. Newly appointed Captain Seijuurou took one look at him and quietly accepted it, no judgment apparent where he could see. His only say on the matter was a careful pat of Sousuke's arm and an utterance of ‘We’ll miss you, bud.’

His leave resulted in relocation from Samezuka to Iwatobi, the quiet town by the sea where someone precious aspired to be the greatest Olympic swimmer of his age. Pipe dreams, that’s all they were.

After some months employed in construction and other odd jobs, Sousuke spotted a person he had failed to notice, as he had always strolled past the shop to and from work. That day, he had left early to sneak in a jog across the beach. He had wanted to keep in shape as his former profession had, especially since he had vastly more free time.

The spectacle that had distracted him from continuing on his way was the image of a grown man, from his eye trained estimate, near his height and build. The brunet had in his hands a plate of fish (mackerel?) and at his feet a bowl of milk. He wasn’t alone.

Cats. Multiple varied sizes of fluff were mewling at the feet of their savior.

The savior had bent down to one knee and generously placed before his audience the gift. As they neared, a hand brushed the tarnished coats of the stray animals and he wore a withdrawn, almost wistful expression.

 _'Would he treat me gently if I was a cat?'_ was a passing thought. ' _Even if I was ugly and mean?'_

It was barely dawn, he remembers. The sky was unexpectedly clear with a dash of yellow in the distant horizon indicating the oncoming sunrise. The early birds were already awake and off where the food was surplus for their young, nowhere near where the quaint town of people lived. The occasional chirp from overhead was the irregular music of the morning.

He didn’t notice his surroundings as much at that moment.

Among other things, it was a quiet, chill start of his day. Very normal, he might say.

That is, until the man glanced up, saw him gawking from across the slightly misty street, tilted his head, and smiled.

In that moment, Sousuke saw the sun rise from the entryway of the flower shop. The sight was dazzling.

He understood. Just one was all it took.

 _Nitori, you’re absolutely right,_ Sousuke had thought. _I’m an idiot; you’re an idiot; we’re fools for falling for such simple things._

Among his jumbled malfunctioning thoughts, he remembers, yes, _that smile is for me and me only._

 _But it’s not,_ said his doubt.

 _It can be,_ said his hope.

 _You’re a clumsy closet romantic and you want what he gives,_ said the part of him which he assumes actually  _was_ his romantic side. _No poetry, though. That’s another word for embarrassment on paper._

His instinct said nothing of the kind as he strutted across the street in a trance. His courage pushed the words out his mouth as he stopped a safe distance from the brunet and the feeding cats.

“When are you open for shop? I’d like to buy some flowers.”

Sousuke grinned his best winning smile, not wanting to scare him away.

Confusion and caution had clouded the stranger's face as Sousuke had approached, but the question and his friendly attitude cleared it away just as easily. The sun shined through, as it should.

“Right away, sir.”

His voice was kindness personified.

Sousuke had it—whatever this was called—so, so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my best not to make Sousuke too much of a romantic and more grumpy, but he just turns out to be an unexpectedly straightforward and humorous guy? Well, considering what I have in store for him, yes, that's exactly what he is. *shrugs*  
> I'm decided to continue the previous one shot, and this might be a "series", so let's see how dedicated this AU will leave me. Lotta angst, hmm~ By the end, everyone will be shipping Sousuke/Eternal "Happiness" aka soumako  
> 


	2. So You're a Pervert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch screens confirmed to be number one backstabbers when it comes to the forces of gravity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Sousuke refers to Makoto as "Manager", try to imagine him saying "Tenchou" instead. Hopefully, someone will notice the FFXIII reference near the end.

It’s been a tiring few weeks since Sousuke took up the part-time job at the flower shop. The manager, the sweet guy that he is, has made it firmly clear to anyone who asks that he plans on keeping his single status to the disappointment of a very many number of fans and customers, Sousuke included.

He's discovered over time that his reaction back then was typical of anyone who met the florist for the first time unguarded.

 _How can he be so jaded when he’s so young?_  Sousuke wonders bitterly as he half listens to the manager’s and the petite blond’s conversation. He thinks his name is Hazuki.

“Mako-chan, are you trying to be a saint?” the blond prods, teasingly. “I’m sure you can find some nice people around town.”

Manager Tachibana waves his hand dismissively. “Nagisa, I told you already. I don’t need to date anyone. I’m fine as I am.”

“I think it’s such a shame.” Hazuki raises both hands above his head in a ‘what am I going to do with you’ manner. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The kid finally says it.

“No,” Manager stubbornly refuses. “I have this shop. That’s all I need.”

Hazuki nudges his head against Manager’s back. “You’re too nice for your own good. There’s no way I can be like that around Rei-chan.”

Sousuke tunes out the rest as he listlessly selects pots and places them on shelves at random for display, use to the same old, same old.

Tachibana Makoto, 24 years old, assumed single and disinterested in any sort of intimate relationship. Each reminder knocks down the nerve he’s built up to express feeling beyond professional and friendly interest. He’s a grown man, so why is something like confessing so hard a task?

When he had realized his feelings, he had assumed Manager had a glass heart at first. He wanted to be careful. He still is; the difference is he knows Manager has a strong-hearted yet independent personality. 

Sousuke also doesn’t want to admit he’s utterly terrified of rejection.

“...zaki…”

A person can’t shit where they eat, he reminds himself. He’s survived so far following this basic rule. It has saved him from any unnecessary awkwardness minus that last horrid winter. Neither did it exempt him from bad judgment of character, but it’s a personal flaw of his.

“Yamazaki-kun?”

“...Yeah?”

Sousuke turns slightly toward where Hazuki and Manager Tachibana are gazing expectantly at him.

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

A helpless grin from Manager flashes his way. “Were you spacing out again?”

“Sorry,” Sousuke says sheepishly. He feels embarrassed to be caught off guard in front of him.

“I bet Sou-chan was daydreaming about his sweetheart,” Hazuki suggests in mock seriousness.

Sousuke ignores the nickname with a twitch of his eyebrow. “I don’t have anything like that,” he denies offhandedly. His eyes slide to the manager out of his own accord.

Hazuki follows his gaze and lets slip an understanding ‘oh’ behind his hand. Sousuke can see the gears in his head whir to connect the dots, and he thinks in panic, _why did I have to do that, why am I always an open book, the days he spends with Manager are going to end way too soon._

Sousuke shakes his head at him.

_Don’t say a word._

Hazuki nods and winks. He then shifts to bodily hug the brunet, startling both him and the person being hugged.

Sousuke immediately feels indignant fury and, if his hands weren’t covered in soil, he would bite his nail in pensive jealousy.

_Cool it. Manager isn’t yours._

_But that little…_

Sousuke reigns in from the urge to forcefully separate the two and clicks his tongue to the side in frustration.

“N-Nagisa, I know you haven’t seen me in days but I’m working,” Manager is saying, flustered as he tries to detach Hazuki’s arms. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

Hazuki lets go as soon as Manager shows signs of distress. “It’s okay. This is what you call skinship!” he declares triumphantly, as if it’s something to be proud of.

Sousuke almost chokes while Manager raises his eyebrows questioningly. Hazuki grins impishly and skips to the entrance with a wave of his hand.

“See ya, Mako-chan. You, too, Sou-chan.”

Manager’s disappointed face is way too cute.

“Eh? You’re leaving already?”

“Yep! I need to go back or Rei-chan will scold me again.”

Hazuki doesn’t look the least bit scared, actually, more delighted at the prospect.

A strangely close relationship they have, him and the mysterious ‘Rei-chan’.

“You’re seeing Rei?” Manager’s widens his eyes as he sometimes does when he remembers something important he has to do. He holds up a hand to Hazuki. “Wait right there.”

Manager enters the back room and fetches a medium sized white box that typically went with the orders for deliveries. He hands it to Hazuki carefully, as if the contents would be ruined if disrupted or shifted the wrong way.

“Give this to Rei when you meet with him. Don’t peep,” Manager warns in his utmost serious tone and sets his brow. He crosses his arms sternly to add to the effect.

“Not even a little?” Hazuki asks, peering up at him with what might have been a doe eyed expression.

Manager turns away before he could convince him and weaken his resolve, “Nope! Not even a look.”

Hazuki puffs out his cheeks. “So mean, Mako-chan.”

“It’s for your own good,” Manager assures, his serious face transitioning into his standard smile as he goes to help a customer. “You’ll understand later.”

“If you say so…” Hazuki glances uncertainly between the box and Manager’s retreating back. His wandering eyes inevitably fall on Sousuke. A mischievous glint flickers as the corner of his mouth perks up.

“Sou-chan, do you like baseball?”

That throws him off. “I’ve never really played it before,” he says slowly.

“I see.” Hazuki closes his eyes and nods, a hand held to his chin in scholarly contemplation. “That makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” Suspicion creeps along his spine at Hazuki’s peculiar behavior as he sidles up closer to whisper in his ear.

“Just that I understand why you haven’t made it to first base,” Sousuke swears Hazuki is positively giggling as he continues ruthlessly, “much less able to step up to home plate.” 

If he was at the station and the boys heard this absolute, _destructive_ burn, Hazuki would be a riot and major league legend. He hit home so accurately it was out of the stands—no, up and out of the stadium.

Was it _that_ obvious?

Sousuke has to turn on his heel, proceed to the nearest wall, none too gently press his forehead against it in shame, then briskly walk back to where the not-so-dense blond stands smirking innocently with the white box in hand.

“You got me there. No progress, at all,” Sousuke admits in defeat. “But you know how Manager is. A true angel.”

Hazuki nods his agreement as he walks out the door. “I know you’ll have your chance.”

“How would you know?” Sousuke pries and follows him outside. He would give him a noogie if Hazuki was giving him false hope. He knows he won't do it but the urge is looking very tempting.

“Because it’s Mako-chan,” Hazuki says, already halfway down the street. “He would never hurt someone on purpose. And you’re nice to look at, you know?”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything! Rei-chan is the only one for me!” he cries quickly, picking up his pace.

Goddammit. He wants to get back at the blond somehow.

He remembers the box and the name tag on one of the requests he had to process earlier that day, addressed to a certain little devil.

“Hazuki!” Sousuke yells down the street, uncaring about how many people he may be disturbing.

His far off blond head turns to him.

“I know what’s in the box!”

An indistinct gasp is enough to satisfy Sousuke for the day. The torture of tempting ‘Pandora’s Box’ would slowly eb at Hazuki until he can’t take it anymore. Ah, psychological revenge was sweet.

He returns to the interior of the shop where Manager is wrapping up with the customer from before. After they leave, Manager waves him closer urgently.

“Yamazaki-kun, are you busy tomorrow?”

Manager has his hands pressed together and elbows on the register counter, appearing to be in prayer but actually in fidgety apprehension as he waits for Sousuke’s answer. The display causes his stomach to flip nervously; Manager never asks about his life outside of work besides how his day has been in the morning.

“Not really,” Sousuke says neutrally. Let him think he has a social life. “Did you need me for something?”

Manager releases the breath he had been holding shakily, Sousuke notes distractedly. A breathy rush of heated air past those lips so close to his...He stops the beginning of his daytime fantasy right there. He needs to get his mind out of the gutter, so help himself.

“Oh, that’s great. Do you think you can come by tomorrow morning at around nine?” Manager asks, unaware of his impure thoughts.

“Sure,” he readily agrees without a second thought. Too eager.

He can’t say no to those eyes, twin pools the color of clear bubbling springs. Nope, he’d need willpower of steel to deny the hope twinkling there.

“Ah, I’m so relieved!"

Manager unclasps his hands and sets his chin on them as he leans across the counter with a satisfied hum. He aims another one of his smiles at him, the typical brightness notched up to blinding from happiness. The thumping of his heartbeat as Sousuke looks away increases in tempo.

It’s going to be a long Wednesday. Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

 

He arrives a half hour early the next day in front of the closed Iwatobi Botanical Garden and Bouquets which simultaneously serves as Manager Tachibana’s current residence on the second floor.

It is the first time Sousuke has been invited into Manager’s home. He’s calm about it, considering he has no idea why he’s there. It would have been a nice idea to ask yesterday, yet among other things, he was entirely too distracted to remember.

He brings out his cell phone and dials the number he has saved under ‘angel’. Manager had given him his private number in case Sousuke needed to call in for illness or emergencies when he had first applied for the job. He had exchanged contacts with only a bare minimum of fumbled keys.

The dial tone echoes in his ear. The click of the call going through prompts him to speak.

“Manager, I’m outside the shop right now. What do you want me to do?” Sousuke hears muffled shuffling as he waits several beats until finally—

“You’re here already?” Manager sounds breathless.

He hums his assent.

“Come around to the back, then. I’ll open the door for you.”

Sousuke makes his way up the side staircase leading to the second floor. He has his hands in his pockets, and by the time he reaches the top step and knocks, they’re trembling, the cord at his wrist tinkling against the attached pendant at how hard they're shaking. He is completely unprepared and silently panicking.

The door swings open for him and behind it is the person of his affections. He’s smiling and discreetly rubbing his eyes as he welcomes Sousuke in with a weak wave of his hand.

“Good morning,” Manager greets sleepily. “I’ll tell you what to do once you’re done taking off your shoes.”

He has on shorts and a faded orange shirt. It’s normal attire to wear in one’s own home, yet Sousuke finds this side of him refreshing. He wants to see more of it.

Manager is going on about how he should start with the streamers and if he wants anything to eat if he hasn't had breakfast. Sousuke has one trainer off and he’s asking, “Manager, should I lock the door or...”

He sees him. He sees the bastard stepping out from the hallway in nothing but a skin tight swimsuit. The guy’s slender and pale with a mop of dark hair fringed over intense blue eyes.

_What the hell._

“Ah.” The stranger notices him staring, his bored expression undeterred by his current state of half nudity. “You must be ‘Yamazaki-kun'.”

Everything clicks together, the reason why Manager had always said he didn't want to date anyone and why he had never invited him to his apartment. He’s already involved with somebody else, that being this shameless pervert of undetermined relation who's matching his shocked stare in nonchalance.

“Here’s the tape and scissors. You can find the streamers on the table in the living room,” Manager tells him, paying no mind to the other man as he comes to stand between them, thoroughly blocking each other from sight.

“What do you want with Makoto?” the swimsuit pervert asks, tilting his head around Manager to continue their stare off.

Sousuke glares and ignores him. “Manager, I have to go,” he says impulsively, slipping on his remaining shoe.

“What?” Manager raises his eyebrows, startled, then lowers them in concern. “Is everything alright? If you actually had something to do, you didn't have to come because you felt obligated to.”

 _I came here because it’s you who asked._ He shakes his head and stiffly turns his back on them.

“Wait. Yamazaki-kun?”

Sousuke hesitates for a split second when he hears the genuine confusion softening Manager's voice. He thinks of the lucky guy behind him and all the unspeakable and unknown times they’ve had together. He forces his body to move.

He doesn’t remember when he got out the door and down the stairs. The next instant, he finds himself sprinting to his flat as if escaping something. What that is, he’s not sure; he’s afraid if he looked at it straight on he would only be able to cower powerlessly at what he saw.

Sousuke pushes his door open heavily with the nearest part of his body once he turns the handle. Pinpricks and needles erupt from the contact.

“Shit,” he mutters as he clutches his right shoulder and collapses onto the edge of his bed. He’s gasping into the wrinkled covers that remain unmade when he left it not too long ago.

After a while, the pain fades and he can breathe again. He’s alone with nothing but remorse.

He ran away. He had left Manager there on his own when he had trusted him to help. If Sousuke really cared for him, then he would have stayed with or without the ‘roommate’ in the same room. He feels regret, but he can’t bring himself to get up and return to apologize, not at that moment.

Sousuke’s eyes fall shut, hoping to block out the present situation. All he sees behind closed lids are fragmented memories of the not so distant past. His thoughts run into Nitori, which he finds funny, since now he’s in the exact same shoes as his ex once was.

 **xXx**  

_Uncontrolled tears are spilling down the boy’s cheeks, past the wondrous beauty mark as he desperately rubs his running nose on his sleeve. Hiccups wrack his chest and he’s curled in on himself while kneeling on the floor. A clenched hand is tucked close to his chest. Nitori is probably hoping to contain his powerful sobs by making himself small._

_The attempt makes him appear fragile._

_“Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_Nitori glances up, hesitantly shrinking back as Sousuke calmly sits cross-legged in front of him. The boy searches for any hidden anger and resentment in Sousuke's body language to no avail. There’s nothing._

Too much water _, Sousuke thinks as he steadily peers in the trembling blue._ Are you drowning in there, somewhere I can't see?

_“I’m...” Nitori sniffs, and Sousuke thinks he might begin another apology for the nth time, but he instead starts again. “I half lied when I said I fell for you when we met, although, it’s true I thought you were kind, even if you had a rough way of showing it.”_

_He nods. Lieutenant Seijuurou and a few guys at Samezuka always laughingly joke that Sousuke has problems dealing with people in general, and for that reason, he's completely head over heels in love with his job._

_“It was hard being with you at times. You didn’t make me feel like...,” Nitori's gaze softens and the wild waves lessen, "like Senpai did.”_

_“That’s unfair.” Sousuke grins and it’s as if everything’s okay. “No one’s like him.”_

_Nitori lightly laughs and wipes his face with a clean section of his shirt. “You’re right, Yamazaki-senpai. He’s special.”_

_They fall into a silent companionable agreement. Sousuke is content to leave it like this in a truce, until Nitori speaks up. He pointedly avoids looking at anything below his neck._

_“I didn’t answer your question.” The boy has fixed himself up and his voice is slightly raspy as he draws his knees close and rests his chin tiredly against them, keeping his hand close._

_“No, you didn’t.” Sousuke had almost forgotten._

_Nitori sighs with a resignation that meant whatever he had kept to himself, he had already made peace with it long ago._

_“Well, some of it is your fault. You two reflect each other in actions and gestures, you know.” He smiles painfully at him. “However small.”_

_It’s his turn to look away. He tries to count the numerous habits he has and attempts to match them with those of him. Besides their way of deciding what they wanted, he comes up with nothing._

_“If you say so.”_

_“I know so, Yamazaki-senpai.”_

_The old Nitori is there, barely, but surely. He wants to smile back. The desire to know is more urgent._

_“Yes, I saw the letter. I heard your name in his sleep. He told me one day after practice he had to leave behind friends to pursue the new ones who made his life shine.” He lists off the events in which he gathered clues as to who Sousuke was somberly, like he was reading a grocery list. “I listened as he cried and struggled to come to terms with himself and those same friends. I couldn’t do a single thing in the end.” The poor boy’s lips tremble as he sobs out the last sentence._

_Sousuke sighs, knowing it would come to this. He wordlessly opens his arms in invitation._

_Nitori’s eyes widen, a blue eyed deer caught in the headlights. He takes a look at his face and he relaxes in the same instant. He presses closer and settles his arms carefully around Sousuke’s torso and rests his head against his left shoulder. It makes Sousuke wonder what he saw there to trust in him and allow him to touch._

_They sit comfortably in each other’s embrace with a noticeable lack of intimacy. They are two people who understand a shared feeling and wish to endure it together until it passes. It feels natural._ _After a safe amount of time, Nitori scoots back but a bit, enough to tilt his head and face Sousuke up close. Closer would be dangerous._

_“You and I are very similar,” the boy declares._

_Sousuke is for once surprised. “How?” he asks._

_Nitori slumps as he ponders how to answer. “Hm...it’s hard to explain. It’s just a feeling, I guess?”_

_“Give me an example.” He has a feeling he knows where this is going. Nitori knows it too. He smiles at Sousuke helplessly in a ‘are you really going to make me say this’ way._

_“Because we fell for with the same person,” Nitori says, the waters calm and at ease, “and we wish life wasn’t so short and cruel.”_

_“Who’s the romantic now?” Sousuke ruffles the boy’s hair playfully. “You need a haircut. Remember the first one you had when we met, the angular bangs and bowl cut? Weird.”_

_“Eh?” Nitori pries his hand away and fixes his hair somewhat to how it was five seconds ago. “Do you think so? The barber I went to, Momo I think, said it looked nice! He might have been a first timer, though. Or maybe it was his young looks?” The boy questions himself dubiously._

_“Geez, it's fine. I can’t imagine you with any other style, anyway. It suits you best,” Sousuke compliments honestly with a smile._

_Nitori splays his hands over his cheeks to hide the warmth rising there. The thing in his hand unravels and falls loosely against his skin. "Yamazaki-senpai, you..."_

_Sousuke thinks he hears him mutter softly, "...cool...arrest me..." His smile falters._

_"I'm sorry."_

_Making the ones he loves cry is a talent he's mastered skillfully._

**xXx**  

The shadows across his wall are elongated and at stark angles. The time says 4:36 PM. His cellphone in his front pocket is vibrating at six second intervals with new messages. His left shoulder is squashed underneath his body at an odd, numbing position and it feels detached from the rest of him. His cheek is hot where it rested against the pillow.

He takes a moment to drowsily gain his bearings. Dead-to-the-world naps were not ideal. This time it gives him an excuse to fly through the day without unnecessary thoughts about Manager Tachibana.

The insistent buzzing won't stop and with effort he lifts his phone out. He blinks away the brightness as his finger slides over the screen to check his inbox. As soon as he sees the sender, gravity does its work and the device slips from his grasp flat onto his face.

"Ow."

Sousuke rubs his nose, feeling betrayed, and pushes himself upright with one arm. His phone slides onto the crease in the pillow where his head had laid for hours. He doesn't pay too much attention to the faint throbbing.

**~**

**Angel**

**Hello? Yamazaki-kun?**

**...**

**I'm sorry for asking so much of you**

**it was obvious you weren't feeling**

**well.**

**...**

**I hope you can still come to**

**Nagisa's party later. Ah, but**

**only when you're better! Not to**

**mean I want you to come no matter**

**what.**

**...**

**Er, sorry! Ignore that.**

**...**

**Yamazaki-kun, know that you're**

**welcome to drop by, alright?**

**...**

**It starts at 6.**

**...**

**I hope you get well! I'll send over**

**flowers!!**

**...**

**jk**

**...**

**I'll see you then. Maybe.**

**~**

The earliest text was sent an hour after he had walked out on Manager. The recent one was fifteen minutes ago. He gulps, his throat parched and stomach empty after hours of no food and drink.

Despite his haggard state, Sousuke's mind is refreshed and his body significantly lighter than he was in the morning. He feels he could easily run the whole length of the beach and back by the time night falls. He's ready to accept the challenge when he remembers someone is expecting him soon.

He grudgingly rolls out of the cozy cocoon that is his bed covers and crouches on the cool floor, anticipating where the bathroom is in the dim light. Before that, he needs to confirm his status as alive and well.

**~**

**Angel**

**jk**

**...**

**I'll see you then. Maybe.**

**...**

**Yeah**

**~**

He wasn't nicknamed 'Captain Cryptic' for nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the dynamics between Nitori and Sousuke. I really do. You might start to notice a pattern in the people Sousuke takes an interest in (Psst, smiley, adorkable sweethearts who don't mean no harm.)


	3. I'm a Swimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake up, Sousuke.

Hazuki is soaking through the sleeve of manager’s white dress shirt, darkening and dirtying the material as he clutches handfuls of it desperately. Sousuke knows he should clear out and leave the two alone, but neither Hazuki or Manager seem to object or mind that he’s there. He’s glad for their trust and regard for him as a friend rather than an outsider. There's still a considerable distance, though, and it’s not the best time to express his gratitude.

“M-Mako-chan,” Hazuki sputters into Manager’s arm, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”

“There, there,” Manager coos, smoothing out his untamed hair. “I think he’s happy for you, and I bet he’s even happier knowing you would miss him.”

“You don’t understand.” Hazuki sits back and curls his hands tightly in his lap. “I want to take him _with_ me. It’s so far away, hours maybe into the city. How can I do that to him?”

“Rei will understand if you tell him and get your feelings across,” Manager advises. “He loves his job assisting at the local uni science department a lot, though.”

Hazuki shuts his eyes painfully. “I know, I’ve thought about that, so that’s why I can’t—”

“But!” Manager interrupts, not unkindly, and grips him firmly by the shoulders. “But, he loves you more, I’m sure of it.”

“Really?” Hazuki asks meekly. His lost demeanor and need for reassurance makes him appear more vulnerable, not at all like his previous bubbly outgoing self. “Rei-chan does?”

Manager visibly softens, affection blooming into a gentle smile. “I’m not the one to ask, but yes. Anyone can see how much he cares,” he replies.

There’s a relapse as Hazuki processes his words; his body stills, his round eyes grow rounder, and his lips tremble precariously. He gives up holding back and throws his arms around Manager and sobs his heart out, all the while wailing “Rei-chan, I’m so sorry for thinking so little of you” and “I love him so much” and “Mako-chan let me do my crying here first, crying in front of Rei-chan is not beautiful at all.”

Sousuke reads this as his cue and stands.

“I’ll be outside,” he quietly announces. Manager spares him a glance in acknowledgement and returns to comforting Hazuki, the lucky guy.

Once he’s out in the cool night air and shuts the veranda door, he heaves a sigh as he's freed from the heavy atmosphere that had settled in about a half hour into the party. He’s never had to deal with relationship problems that weren’t his own and long distance was never an issue to him, he made sure of it.

He digs out his new pack of cigarettes and lighter, intent on doing something while they finish up inside. He sticks one between his lips and lights up, the actions old and familiar. After that’s done, Sousuke takes his time overlooking the dim shadows of building rooftops.

This is Iwatobi, the place where Manager Tachibana was born and grew up in. The tranquil atmosphere around town and the polite inhabitants that welcomed him in warmly makes it easy to think this was the environment that nurtured Manager to whom he is today. Sousuke can imagine a little brunet boy, shy and curious about the nearby sea; a young maturing youth uncertain about his future but assured by the daily roar of the waves; and the attractive, wistful adult who takes a window of fifteen minutes each day to witness the horizon disappear in a blaze of color matching that of a bouquet. He wishes he could see it all, Manager’s life, to understand him, to discover the secret to make him his.

Sousuke exhales and sulks, irritated at the thought of someone else there instead.

“Smoking is bad for your health.”

Luck is not on his side today.

“Thanks for the advice,” Sousuke says sarcastically, leaning his elbows further on the railing edge. He notices the shop sign also serves as the veranda, finding it cute and ingenious of Manager to do that. “This is a one time thing by the way. I can’t smoke around the plants. Too much carbon dioxide and secondhand smoke, you know?”

“I do,” the guy responds from behind and to the left of him.

Sousuke side glances him and raises an eyebrow, surprised and relieved to find he’s just barely decent this time, donning an unzipped jacket and track pants with bare feet. There’s some improvement, one step away from being labeled the neighborhood pervert.

He’s crouching in the shadow of the door, obviously avoiding being seen. The newly donned Roommate clears his throat and clarifies, “I do know, I mean. About plants. Makoto talks about them often.”

First name basis, huh. The unflinching familiarity with each other, especially his get-naked habit, and the instinct to bluntly ask and see through Sousuke’s intentions factor him into...he hates to say it... _childhood-friend-turned-_ _lover_. He cringes just thinking about it. He hopes his fears aren’t true.

“So, why aren’t you inside?” Sousuke changes the subject, nodding his chin to the door.

The Roommate shakes his head curtly, causing his dark bangs to flip from side to side. “It wouldn’t matter if I went in or not,” he answers as he hugs his knees to himself.

Sousuke takes a drag and breathes out slowly. “I thought you and the Manager were close?”

“We were,” he affirms.

“Then what was that before?”

He sends Sousuke a puzzled look.

“When you were naked! Or half-naked, whatever,” Sousuke prompts.

The Roommate tilts his head and gazes off to the side. “I figured if you saw me, you’d leave.”

“I did leave,” Sousuke points out, a bit pissed off that the other’s pathetic attempt of scaring potential love interests away had worked on him. “You happy?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, nonchalantly. “What would you have done to Makoto if I wasn’t there?”

Sousuke opens his mouth to retort. He closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have a straight answer. “I don’t know,” he repeats the other’s previous sentiment. “I wouldn’t do anything Manager didn’t want.”

The nameless guy looks at at him for the first time, making direct eye contact. His gaze is searching, trying to discern something from Sousuke, most likely to measure the sincerity behind his words. As a former cop, he has trained himself in the art of schooling his features in the case of any situation on hand, so it’s useless.

As he returns his gaze, he detects the clouded darkness familiar with the unknown depths of the sea in his eyes. Whatever problems this guy has, they’re too difficult and complicated to sort out on his own. Sousuke has always believed in the phrase "eyes are the windows to the soul", and his judgment would usually turn out accurate when he gets a read on them.

“You’re acting normal,” the Roommate states, wonderingly, "considering I could do whatever I want with your body."

It’s Sousuke’s turn to be puzzled.

“Besides the fact that you might be Manager’s hidden boyfriend, how am I supposed to act?”

He's more affronted at the fact that he should act polite to this jerk, not the odd comment about...his body?

“Like you’ve seen a ghost,” the other says, plainly. His default blank expression is unfazed and his eyes never leave his. They’re completely still. The guy is one hundred percent serious.

“C’mon, you’re joking right?” Sousuke tries to snap him out of his very believable act.

The Roommate sighs as he rises and brushes off the invisible lint on his clothes. He steps up to where Sousuke stands in the light from the apartment, drawing near in two short strides with a hand outstretched toward Sousuke's chest. Sousuke looks down at the other’s exposed feet. They’re likely frozen from hiding out here too long and he has a mind to suggest they go inside soon.

His jaw slackens, the half burnt cigarette landing a centimeter too close to his toes.

The matter quickly filters out of his mind.

The other guy _doesn’t have a shadow_.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for listening, Mako-chan.”

“No problem, Nagisa. I’m here any time.”

“Hey, how do you give such good advice? It’s gotta come from somewhere.”

“Well…”

“Spill.”

“Okay, I do have some experience. It’s kind of cliche though, since it was one time. I think you remember Haru?”

“Of course I do! His swimming was pretty even when we were itty bitty kids. No way, don’t tell me he was your experience? That’s adorable! Haven’t you guys been joined at the hip since forever?”

“Nagisa! Keep it down.”

“O-ho, I see, mm-hmm. Oh, you two…that’s too bad, Sou-chan.”

“Why do you look so disappointed? You keep muttering to yourself.”

“It’s nothing! I was just thinking about how much cuter me and Rei-chan are in purikura.”

“Really.”

“Uh, yeah, ha ha. So when will we meet him? Are you guys doing long distance, too? I never see him around here.”

“Actually, the thing is…”

“What is it, Mako-chan?”

“He’s not here anymore.”

“What? Did he leave you for someone else? Why that Haru-chan!”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I mean he hasn’t come back here in years.”

“Wait, wait. Are you telling me that the first love of your life is heartless enough to abandon you?”

“Yeah, in a way, but not really. He's been...away since summer break of our third year of high school.”

“I...I’m sorry for bringing it up. I’m so sorry, Mako-chan.”

“It’s alright.”

“Mako-chan, can I ask you something personal?”

“Go ahead.”

“Is it really okay to stay faithful to Haru-chan for so long?”

“It is. I know he’s out there somewhere. Sometimes I feel he’s even here with me in spirit when I’m tending to the garden out back. Do you want to see?”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to worry you, but what if he doesn’t come back? Would you think about looking at other people, then?”

“Maybe. Honestly, I feel no one can match Haru’s place in my life, so it might be hard to find someone willing to fill that.”

“Hm. Sou-chan does have a chance, uhuhu.”

“Nagisa...what are you planning? Your laughs aren’t as nice as the ones before.”

“I’m just cheering a friend of mine in his chase for happiness. You know them, actually.”

“Really? I know a lot of people so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“They’re closer than you think.”

“I’m guessing you’re talking about your new friend Nitori.”

“No! Er, how did you know?”

“I'm joking, Nagisa. I was testing you since you said they were nearby. He lives all the way in Samezuka.”

“Mako-chan, so sneaky. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about Ai-chan but I am genuinely rooting for him. He texted me two days ago at four in the morning saying he thinks he might have a crush on his cute, young barber. Ah, my dear Ai-chan is maturing so much without me.”

“Is that true? Good for him. He’s moving on.”

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Can you move on, Mako-chan?”

“That’s not something I can answer. Why?”

“As a friend, I want you to be happy.”

“I am completely—”

“—fine, I know. You want to stay as you are. Rei-chan and I worry; you're our friend, and I think Haru-chan and I would have been best buddies if my parents let me go to Iwatobi with you guys, if Rei-chan's stories have said as much. We don’t want you to be lonely, especially when I’m gone.

So answer this seriously. If someone worthwhile shows up and confesses, will you give them a chance?”

“I…”

 

* * *

 

In lieu of his muddled up confusion, Sousuke’s brain provides the nearest rational explanation he can conjure: _A vampire. Heck, he’s gonna suck my blood. I’m gonna die of anemia on Manager’s balcony for no good reason._

The Roommate’s words before echo in his mind.

_“Like you’ve seen a ghost.”_

“Nah, that’s can’t be,” he mutters, clutching his forehead while simultaneously blocking out the apparition he had a moment ago thought of as his rival in love. His eyes snap open as a foreign pressure tingles in the center of his chest.

_Now my heart is acting up, too._

The Roommate is intently staring at his chest less than an arm’s distance from him, focused on the one increasingly uncomfortable spot as if he could see past his skin and bones to his lungs and heart rising and beating irregularly in panic.

He says less than an arm distance because the ghost guy's clothed arm went straight through his body without resistance.

Sousuke jumps and grips the railing, thinking he had somehow become gaseous. His other hand goes for the Roommate’s arm. He grasps air.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he sinks slowly to the ground.

The Roommate withdraws his offending limb and lifts his feet off the ground naturally. He floats a little ways until he’s parallel to the floor.

“You know now,” he murmurs above.

Sousuke pats himself, the warmth returning to the area where the other had gone through. He stares up widely at the Roommate, shocked that he couldn’t tell he wasn’t...alive when he appeared the same as him. If he had done his floating Roommate-the-Passive-Ghost act earlier, Sousuke would have gotten the clue. He recognizes the little details that could have hinted at who he was: the nonexistent rise of his chest, the lack of emotion and movement of facial expression, the unusual answers to his questions he had given with the intent of being answered by the person who was “living” with Manager.

“What—no, who are you?” Sousuke whispers sharply.

The Roommate finishes his backflip and leisurely rotates to a stop upside down and a mere few inches from Sousuke’s face. This close up, Sousuke can count the flaws and gradients of color in his irises.

“Nanase Haruka, Makoto’s late boyfriend of the past six years.”

The veranda door slides open before Sousuke can react and they turn to see Manager as he pops his head out.

“Yamazaki-kun, are you done?” he asks as he looks at Sousuke slumped against the railing.

“Uh, yeah.” Sousuke scrambles to answer and frantically glances to where Nanase is supposed to be floating. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Okay. Make sure to properly throw away your ashes,” Manager requests as he goes back inside. “Let’s eat!”

“Yay!” Hazuki’s excitedly cheers, apparently recovered. “I want to try this cake with flowers. They’re edible, aren’t they?”

“Yep. It's also strawberry flavored.”

“Neat! You know me so well, Mako-chan.”

Sousuke scans the veranda once more, spotting his fallen, snuffed out cigarette but no Nanase. He would assume he had seen a vivid illusion if not for the traces of tingling in his chest. The guy has zero qualms about freaking him out but the moment his beloved boyfriend shows up, he runs away and hides. He wonders briefly if anyone else can see him.

He decides to stop thinking on it. No use making it more of a problem than it already is, and Sousuke hasn’t had the chance to taste edible flowers yet. As expected of a florist.

“Oh my gosh, the fluffy innards are pink! If I had known, I would have brought my strawberry flavored protein powder.”

“...I don’t think that’s necessary for this occasion.” He can hear the faint horror in Manager’s voice, implying it's happened several times, along with a confused mutter of, "Innards...?"

 _How does strawberry flavored protein powder even exist?_  Sousuke thinks and shudders before gathering his ashes and stepping inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episode eleven pains me so for makoharu, and I just had to use the new preview material after the dreaded Future Fish to continue on. Next time on (the day after) Water day


	4. Same Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He raises a hand to volunteer his own umbrella until he sees them caught in their own little world. Interrupting would shatter the magic this one of a kind opportunity could produce.  
> It's a nice change from the unchanging not-quite-a-smile the eternal summer left behind in their wake.

Sousuke mechanically plucks off the leaves on the flower stems, pondering the other night. Seeing Nanase for the first time was like spotting the overlap of two different images into one three dimensional picture, and he can’t seem to ignore the resulting shape or forget it. What’s seen can’t be undone, and boy is it a bother.

“I’ll be out making deliveries for the next few hours until lunch, so watch the shop for me?” Manager informs as Nanase floats by his shoulder with his knees tucked under (?) him and hands resting on his lap in a proper sitting position suitable if one was anchored on the ground instead of upside down.

“Sure,” Sousuke relents with a nod.

Manager tosses a quick smile and makes his way outside where the orders are.

Nanase pushes off from the entrance door frame with a foot (and Sousuke thought he couldn’t touch objects) and moves toward him in a fashion similar to swimming in water. He draws close and peers at Sousuke.

Sousuke peeks over the counter at his bare feet above the floor. Still no shadow. He’s tossed the pants and stuck with his swimsuit. The guy needs to make up his mind: half nude or nah?

“What do you want?” Sousuke swats him with a flower stem and it expectantly goes through him.

“You can see me.”

“Obviously,” Sousuke scoffs with another swat.

“Do you love Makoto?” Nanase asks bluntly. Nice conversation starter.

Sousuke retracts the flowers. “None of your business. And why don’t you go back upstairs? You’re disturbing me during work hours.”

“It’s funny,” Nanase remarks randomly, ignoring him.

“What is?”

“That the one living person who can see me is annoyed by it.”

Sousuke’s hand pauses over the next bunch. “How can I not be? You’re Manager’s dead boyfriend. If he found out you’ve been loitering around for however long you have, he would find it creepy.”

“I don’t like the way you look at Makoto.” Nanase scrutinizes him with his brows drawn in a frown, Sousuke’s words going in one ear and out the other. “It’s a nasty look. You have secret motives.”

“Excuse me, I was born like this.” Sousuke scowls. He’s been told many times how delinquent-like his default expression is. It’s why he did his former job so well. The actual delinquents and perpetrators were intimidated shitless by the time he threw a certain look their way. Although, there were the rare cases where the troublemakers would go willingly, even asking to take a picture...

“Were you also born a coward?” Nanase inquires, cutting into his thoughts.

Sousuke is struck silent. He knows he’s not. He knows any other time in his life, with a few exceptions he can count on one hand, he’s never been a coward. It’s just not who he is. But just for this instant, for the man who sparkles like the sun in his eclipsed sky, he would be honest.

“I am not a coward,” he counters under his breath, “I’m scared.”

Nanase leans forward as if to better hear. The bell above the shop door tinkles, signaling a customer had arrived.

“Haa, what a distance from here to the station!” a man with red rimmed glasses exclaims casually as he enters the shop. “Makoto-senpai, I took the liberty of jogging halfway, so may I please use—” He halts mid-sentence to balk widely at Sousuke. “Oh, my apologies. Who might you be?”

He says his name.

“Then you must be Sou-chan-san, the part-timer?” The man tilts his head as he takes Sousuke in. “I am Ryuugazaki Rei. Please call me Ryuugazaki or however you please. It is safe to presume you are a senior like Makoto-senpai? I will be helping out every now and then after Nagisa-kun will be moving to Tokyo.”

“Who?” Sousuke loudly whispers to Nanase. Ryuugazaki sends a quizzical look his way.

“A close friend.” There’s no one he knows with such a unique name, and his confusion shows on his face, so Nanase emphasizes with a roll of his eyes, “‘Rei-chan.’”

Sousuke nods, mentally registering Ryuugazaki as Hazuki’s apparent significant, long distance other. He casts a once-over at Ryuugazaki, measuring his smart clean clothes and athletic lean build. Hazuki mentioned the other man had participated in track in high school once in a conversation he had barely paid attention to. His polite intelligent vocabulary fits well with his job in the science department at the local university.

Out of habit, Sousuke wishes he had joined the police force instead. Ryuugazaki seems like the perfect type to appreciate the beauty of justice with a level head.

“For future reference, you can call me Yamazaki,” Sousuke offers, raising a hand and pointedly looking at the multiple bags of various and likely practical purposes strewn across his shoulders. “Tack on whatever honorific you want, as long as it’s not ‘Sou-chan-san’.”

“So I’ve been told in the past.” Ryuugazaki accepts the hand for his bags graciously.

“He called me ‘Haru-chan-san’ when we first met,” Nanase explains, his cheeks resting on his crossed arms. “Said he heard of me from Makoto when he saw my poster for the art club.”

Nanase is pretty talkative today. Weird, Sousuke would never have deemed him the chatty kind of person. He notices Nanase’s eyebrows are relaxed and his eyes almost gentle as they follow Ryuugazaki around the shop. His indifference is lightly touched by excitement.

“Where do you want me to put all of this?” Sousuke calls out.

“Anywhere is fine,” Ryuugazaki replies somewhere in the break room where the employee aprons are stored.

He places the bags on the lower stairwell leading up to Manager’s apartment, and then turns to Nanase with a sharply uttered, “Shoo”.

“Yamazaki-san?” Ryuugazaki emerges from the back with a primly donned apron while pulling on a pair of gloves, peering at him questioningly.

“Uh. I thought I saw a bug.” Sousuke hates to lie to him, but it’s a necessary white lie. The guy might think he’s crazy if he tells him the truth.

Ryuugazaki joins him at the counter and starts plucking. “I dislike cut flowers,” he comments casually, his focus on the said flowers.

 _Then why are you here?_ Sousuke wonders.

He continues complacently. “Even more, I dislike watching as their short lives wilt away by natural causes. Such beauty is shortened as the source of their life, the root, is literally cut off, no?” Ryuugazaki looks at him from the side, inviting Sousuke into the conversation.

“I see where you’re coming from,” Sousuke agrees.

“Also,” Ryuugazaki’s eyes are lidded behind his lenses as he gazes solemnly at the mess of leaves and petals, twirling a delicate blue flower between his thumb and index finger idly, “I am tired of purchasing and wasting such wonderful pieces. In fact, it makes me ill at the thought of doing it again. Makoto-senpai is amazing to be able to care for them without becoming overwhelmed with sadness.”

Sousuke studies Nanase contemplating his friend with a carefully blank expression. He must feel Sousuke’s eyes on him, as he glances his way and smoothly spins toward the ceiling, his back to them.

“Ryuugazaki,” Sousuke spells out the new name in his mouth experimentally, “I thought you were only supposed to be coming here on weekends. Today’s a Thursday.”

The other man pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose pompously with a finger. “I was wondering when you were going to ask!” He chuckles as if the turn in conversation had gone all according to his calculations, very much like the guys in Sousuke's high school class who watched too much old school anime and deemed the rest of them mere mortals as irrelevant. “I came today to help so Makoto-senpai can rest for the next few days. There will be a birthday soon.”

“Whose?” Sousuke quickly asks the Roommate.

“Mine,” Nanase quietly murmurs over his shoulder.

Ryuugazaki lifts an eyebrow, uncomprehendingly looking at the space where he had spoken to, but keeps silent on the matter. “It’s a special date. I would be careful around Makoto-senpai if you were to ask, Yamazaki-san,” he advises kindly, rightfully assuming Sousuke does not yet know about Nanase.

“I...see,” Sousuke says, backing off yet feeling the obvious exclusion.

He stares at Nanase’s back, willing him to turn around and explain. When someone like him clams up, it’s gotta be something significant.

There’s an unmistakable intimacy between the four, a bond and past he doesn’t know about. For Nanase it’s an unbreakable distance he cannot ever return to. Sousuke respectfully stays outside the circle they have drawn, careful not to tread on that boundary, but holding tight to the hope he will be welcomed in one day.

They work dutifully on the tasks at hand for the rest of the time, occasionally making small talk until it’s lunch.

The sky has been overcast for the past hour and the air is filled with the stagnant humid odor before a storm. He prepares the awning as the first splashes of water rain down. On his mind is the thought of Manager out there shivering and ready to catch a cold. He hadn’t brought an umbrella or anything for cover out on his errands.

Sousuke and Ryuugazaki grow concerned as it comes down harder in torrents. There’s a distinct clap of thunder in the distance.

Down the street they catch sight of a familiar silhouette of green.

“Makoto-senpai really should have done track,” Ryuugazaki quips in admiration as the figure rushes toward them on the slick sidewalk at an alarming speed. “I shall fetch him a towel.”

Manager Tachibana gradually slows to a stop in the entrance as he presses his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. “I...I’m not how...I used to be...in high school,” he wheezes, picking at the thin shirt clinging to his skin.

It takes all of Sousuke's willpower to restrain himself, to no avail.

“Pfft.”

He bites his lip to cut off a chuckle when Manager’s head snaps up, his cheeks red from either exertion, embarrassment, or maybe both. The force of the corners of Sousuke’s lips rising is too strong.

“Yamazaki-kun!” Manager covers his face with one hand and slaps Sousuke's shoulder with the other, leaving a smudge of wet behind. He winces as he stumbles forward a step.

“Ow, geez. I’m sorry Manager, but I didn’t think you would be out of shape considering those fairly impressive traps and lats of yours.” Sousuke laughs while rubbing his sore shoulder. Manager could pack a hefty punch if he tried. He’s glad it was the good one.

He belatedly realizes what he just said out loud without his mental filter on. He feels the oncoming blush in a wave of horror as he backs up and bumps heavily into the door frame, eyes flitting toward Manager in case he had noticed.

“Don’t flatter my back muscles after laughing!” Manager cries, abashedly crouching on the floor with his head hidden in his arms, thankfully missing Sousuke’s mistaken and failed attempt at flirting.

“I won’t do it again,” Sousuke mumbles behind his hand, covering his own heated cheeks as he looks anywhere but Manager. Manager might think he has a secret thing for backs. Heck, maybe he does.

Ryuugazaki comes in at the worst and best possible time.

“What happened?” he asks, looking between him and Manager, they in varied degrees of embarrassment and very far away from each other.

Manager rises reluctantly and sweeps the clingy strands of hair back from his forehead. “Nothing important, Rei. I’m glad you’re here!” he says as he moves to hug him, at the last second remembering he’s still soaking wet to the bone. Ryuugazaki hands him the clean towel obediently.

They chat about how they have been faring in their own respective working lives as Manager dries off. Their main topic gradually draws toward Hazuki, and Sousuke simultaneously takes note of his bad habit of drowning out conversations that weren’t about him or Manager while gratefully sensing his blush cool.

“Yamazaki-kun?” Sousuke stands to attention when he hears Manager address him, like the infatuated dog that he is. “Since it’s raining, we can go get lunch together. Rei agreed to watch the shop while we’re gone. That sound good?”

Manager waits for Sousuke with the damp towel draped over his shoulders and his hair slightly mussed up and that adorable half head tilt and smile of his that puts Sousuke in an undecided dilemma about whether to turn him down or happily agree. He's not exactly sure who would be the dog here, but Manager pulls off the look well.

Nanase had disappeared at some point when Manager had come back. Again. Why even bother trying to hide is pointless when no one but him can see. Sousuke immediately regrets it when he feels a bit of mirth from knowing he can go places with Manager while Nanase cannot.

Sousuke has never felt this thrill of competition before, and with a dead guy nonetheless.

“About that,” Sousuke scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I forgot an umbrella.”

“That’s okay!” _What._  “We can share mine. It should be enough for the two of us, though two grown men over six feet under one umbrella is kind of embarrassing...”

This is like Nitori’s innocent boys’ love dramas except it happening in real life is too good to be true for Sousuke to believe until he’s forcibly pushed out the door by the starving florist. One glance back at Ryuugazaki shows him standing in the doorway looking like he has something he wants to say but decides to keep it to himself as he waves and watches them off with a strange serene smile.

In the end, after choosing based on height that Sousuke should hold the cute fish-patterned umbrella, they walk to the nearest ramen shop, the pitter-pattering of the gloomy summer weather filling their silence.

It gets to the point where Sousuke is fidgeting and clenching his fist in his pocket, his fingers distractedly picking at the thread on his wrist. There are so many things he can talk about and Manager could grab the tail of the conversation and make it like he knew the other person for years rather than the same day.

Of course, Sousuke has gotta start with the most off-limits of questions first.

“Ryuugazaki told me you’ll be celebrating something special this week?”

Manager is staring straight ahead but the tension in his shoulders acknowledge that he heard.

“Haru’s. It’s Haru’s birthday,” he says simply. “My best friend.”

Sousuke is disappointed when Manager doesn’t disclose their true relationship. Those two, is there even a need to hide?

Manager clears up his downcast mood by asking Sousuke, his demeanor hesitant.

“I don’t want to offend you, but what do you think about...two men? Together? I mean, I know this is random but-oh gosh, how do I say this-”

Ah, so that’s what it is. Sometimes, even he forgets not everyone is fine like he is. It is understandable why Manager was wary about telling the truth.

“Um, if you’re uncomfortable, then...” Manager looks down at his feet, the picture of dejected and wounded puppy.

“If you mean if I am okay with your relationship with another man, then yes,” Sousuke reassures, quickly. He even dated a few guys, but that’s not the point.

“Oh,” Manager sighs, visibly relieved. “I can say out in the open that Haru was my boyfriend.”

His heart constricts painfully. Sousuke was half hoping Nanase was making the haunted boyfriend story up.

“I don’t know what to say about Haru.”

Nanase’s name is an exhalation, a cross between a sigh, a prayer, and a huffed reminiscence of the past. It comes to his lips as easy as breathing, like he had been saying it for years. Maybe he had. The soft glazed over look in his eyes betrays how much he feels.

“His birthday was our anniversary. A long time coming to get to that point but we made it.”

Manager stops in the street and Sousuke strains to keep them dry without invading his personal space. He thinks Manager is crying but it’s only droplets of water dripping from the edge of the umbrella.

“Haru was forgetful and reserved when it came to other people. He would say if I found a dream of my own, I could always come back to Iwatobi, and if he went off on his own and got lost, then I could finally choose someone who made me happy.”

Manager’s fingers comb through his hair and halt above his eyes. His teeth clench as he mutters bitterly.

“As if.”

Sousuke’s chest swells in hurt, a hurt saved for this beautiful broken person who endures daily with the unknown fate of his beloved. Empathy swells for Nanase enduring this same pain, dealing with the absolute helplessness.

Who gets hurt the most: the one who left or the one left behind?

Sousuke reaches a conclusion. Not the one he loves.

“Manager, if you’re willing then,” Sousuke has gotta stick with his vow all the way, “have an affair with me.”

“Huh?” Manager blinks owlishly at him. “Oh, Yamazaki-kun. You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. Your partner will get jealous.”

“You may think I’m joking, but I am serious,” Sousuke confesses.

"Why?" Manager asks, eyes wide.

It's now or never.

“I’m in love with you."

“...In love with me?” Manager repeats dazedly, as if such a thing is unheard of.

“Please.” Sousuke begs, because he desperately needs a clear reply instead of startled puzzlement. At the least shoot down his hopes so he can move on quicker.

“Our break is almost half over,” Manager finally says after a moment that could have lasted from five seconds to five minutes, professionally changing the subject. “Let’s go before Rei meets a customer and drives them away with extensive theories about the colors of flowers.”

 

Sousuke gazes emptily at the fresh bowl of noodles in front of him. The vapor emitted from it rises and evaporates exactly like his determination a minute ago.

“Eat before it gets cold,” Manager says through the food already half in his mouth, gesturing to the untouched bowl with his chopsticks.

He continues his stare off with the ramen, as if it was the one that chased off his fighting spirit. He can’t bring himself to eat, but if Manager tells him so, he will.

Sousuke is about to dig in, but before that, he looks up to Manager for approval. He’s shell shocked.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, startled at the tears streaming down Manager’s face.

Through it, he continues to eat. “It’s nothing,” Manager insists as he wipes his cheeks with the back of his hands. “Spicy food makes me cry.”

 _Not through the nose...?_ Sousuke reasons silently.

For the rest of the meal, they eat with the occasional sniffle.

Afterwards, Sousuke's personal review for the chef: The ramen was a tad bit too hot for his own liking. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the former deleted chapter 4, you guys weren't supposed to see that! I was saving it for another upcoming related mini fic I have planned in the future after this one is complete. For those who read it: Forget, Forget Beam~!  
> I'm juggling writing this and attacking irl stuff so I can only provide around 2-3k sized chapters on schedule. I could also compromise by posting every other week to provide less short chapters and more lengthy complete ones. It would be a load off my chest for the latter, but I want you guys to have a story to look forward to every week ^^ We'll see how that goes...  
> (changes to the fic summary and updates, what's next?)  
> Thanks for the new and the old subscribers for deciding to stick with this little AU of mine. Next time on the (day after) the last Water day.


	5. Are You a Voyeur? (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka’s right ear had been less functional since the time he nearly drowned when he and Makoto were kids. Makoto knew this, so he had taken care to be on his left side when talking to him.
> 
> Always, Haru had taken for granted that unspoken reserved spot next to Makoto.

Makoto ponders the inactivity and relative normalcy between him and Yamazaki-kun as he taps his pen against his clipboard. It’s been a week since that rainy day sharing an umbrella, and his coworker has been keeping his distance respectfully. Makoto has difficulty reading his face, so it’s hard to tell if he’s shy or non-feeling about the whole endeavor. Either way, he’s grown something akin to impatience at the other man, petty and out of his right it may be.

The confession really was out of the dark if he was being honest with himself. Makoto hadn’t expected someone of Yamazaki-kun’s league to even glance at a fumbling florist like him. It was like a surreal dream and an eye opener that people could be attracted to him, and others could potentially harbor feelings of love without him knowing.

It shocks him that someone other than Haru could love him like that, not as family or a friend, but as a lover.

The concept of starting a love fresh without knowing the ins and outs of another person scares him. He only has Haru, and he felt Haru was the one for him with their mutual understanding spanning their whole childhood, adolescence, and high school.

The time spent with him has never felt enough, sometimes long and stressful and others short and wonderful. By his side, there has always been Haru.

Their argument at the festival was the beginning of his regret and guilt. If only he hadn’t pushed Haru away with the truth and chose to hold fast to his hand, maybe then he would have stayed and realized his dream was with Makoto.

_“Everyone...and me…it’s because we love you. Because we care about you. Why can’t you understand that?”_

_Why couldn’t he understand him?_

He couldn’t have done a thing to stop him anyway. For all he has known, Haru has always had a wanderlust for something to provide the freedom he needs. Other people may have thought his desire was waterlust, but Makoto knew better; water was only a temporary relief from the rest of the suppressing real world. Though Haru had said he wanted things to remain as they were, he was looking for a place—a dream—that would welcome him and set his life on the right course.

Makoto would have offered himself to be his dream, but that was a bit too romantic and cheesy. After all, Makoto chose to become independent from Haru precisely because he wanted Haru to depend on him. This was the message he was trying to convey that night.

As he could see, he failed miserably.

Makoto sighs. What-ifs, maybes...he can’t change what’s happened.

“Excuse me, Manager.”

“Yes?” Makoto faces Yamazaki-kun, wiping his frown clean. He has a hand on the shoulder of an indifferent female customer.

“She says she wants to know the difference between these flowers,” Yamazaki-kun explains, letting his hand fall to grip his shoulder, a tick Makoto has noticed he does when he’s even slightly distracted. “The evening and the morning primrose, you said?”he asks the customer.

The woman nods.

Makoto smiles the smile he reserves for customers and strangers. “They are different, you have that correct.”

“I see,” she says.

Yamazaki-kun glances at Makoto, and Makoto nods to indicate he’s got this. He stretches out his shoulders and lumbers back to his tasks dutifully.

“What are you looking for specifically?” Makoto asks the woman, eager to help.

“The evening primrose,” she replies.

He scans the rows of stocked flowers until he finds the one.

“This, miss?” He plucks them from their pot and raises them for her to see.

“Yes, thank you. Can you arrange them in a bouquet with mainly those, please?” she requests.

He’s iffy about allowing her to purchase them, when in the language of flowers they mean infidelity, but the customer’s happiness comes first. They could be for purely aesthetic purposes, for all he knows.

“Right away, miss.”

As for infidelity, they would be a perfect match for Yamazaki-kun, who is willing to participate in an act as capricious and daring as a love affair.

Makoto is confused; why couldn’t Yamazaki-kun ask to date rather than something as drastic as that? At the time, he seemed rushed, anxious even.

He doesn’t know how long Yamazaki-kun has had his feelings. If it began all the way from the moment they met, he could understand the impatience.

He waited years loving Haru and believing he didn’t share the same kind of love. It was an emotional time for him, especially in middle school when Makoto wasn’t always with Haru. Those years seemed to be the hardest on both of them. He had confided in his closest friend about his budding feelings at the time, a face he hadn't seen in years.

Makoto peers over at Yamazaki-kun rearranging old pots into a box, at his broad back under his shirt, at the pronounced deltoids that flex with each movement, half long dark hair that has grown to fall into his eyes.

Certainly, the brunet is an impressive sight to admire. He had skimmed over his resume before calling him up to hire, but he remembers distinctly that one of his previous experiences was as a police officer. It explained a lot and had Makoto embarrass himself silly imagining Yamazaki-kun dressed sleek and in uniform.

Speaking of which, he forgets how old Yamazaki-kun is. On the outside he appears bored and knowing when he catches Makoto’s eye. In contrast, his rare smiles are youthful and his sparse laughs light and genuine.

If it was matter of looks, Makoto would consider him in a heartbeat.

The only thing holding him back would be letting himself go.

 **xXx**  

 _Nanase, get out of the way, I swear I’ll…_  Sousuke threatens silently as he shifts in all different directions to avoid the apparition, careful not to drop the box in his hands.

Nanase follows his movements, all the while picking his nose or posing every which way possible to obstruct his view of Manager Tachibana. He’s been doing the same thing all week.

Sousuke gives up and decides to gather the contents of the box right there on the ground.

So annoying.

“I’m go around the back to put these away,” he says.

“Sure,” Manager replies, busy with the customer’s bouquet.

Once that’s done, he settles for a quick smoke. Manager wouldn’t mind if he took his break out there.

Sousuke reflects on the progress he’s made, which has so far been nill. Things had more or less stayed like they were before. Manager had taken the days off while he and Ryuugazaki had turns minding the shop. The strained atmosphere of normalcy replaced afterwards had given Sousuke plenty of spare moments to think.

June thirtieth would have been the day Nanase turned twenty-five and their celebrated anniversary of their relationship. Guilt pricks his conscience when he realizes Nanase will eternally remain eighteen.

He pushes the thought out of his mind. There’s no need to feel pity toward the rival, is there?

“Yamazaki. You were here.”

“Why must you always sneak up on me while I’m smoking?” Sousuke grumbles to Nanase, where he had crept through the wall to the dark space under the staircase.

“It’s bad for you,” Nanase says, as if it explained everything. He follows up with a bland comment, “You’re a chicken.”

Sousuke rubs the space between his brows, the stress he had accumulated over the week about to burst from the seams.

“What’s with you? After I came back that day, you’ve been upping your antics in getting in my way,” Sousuke demands, confronting him at last. “Making silly faces when I’m trying to speak to Manager, are you a kid?”

Nanase looks away, stubbornly. “I will not let you have Makoto,” he vows. “I’m not a kid,” he adds as an afterthought with a press of his lips.

Sousuke raises his eyebrows, his stress dissolving. Unexpected laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep in his abdomen. He coughs halfway, having forgotten his cigarette, but continues in another peal of laughs when he sees Nanase’s offended expression.

“Why?” Nanase asks.

Sousuke has to clutch his sides hard to get a hold of himself. “That’s ironic. After what Manager told me about you wanting him to be happy when you’re gone, now you want to claim him as yours?” he says.

“‘s going too far,” Nanase mumbles. “I think I’m normal.”

“That’s wrong,” Sousuke retorts. “You are the furthest thing from normal here.”

He sighs as he recalls the occasions where he had tried to approach Manager Tachibana and a dark head would interfere and block his line of sight.

“Go away. You’re the one who made him cry, so you have no right to meddle,” Sousuke admonishes. He puts out the half burnt cigarette and squints at Nanase until his figure blurs and he goes cross-eyed.

“Life. It doesn’t always go the way we want it to,” the fuzzy peach and black smudge says.

“That sounds even more depressing coming from you.” Sousuke groans and rubs at his eyes as they refocus. “Very true, though.”

“I know. All this time has made me think. Who hurts the most: the one who is gone or the one who is left behind?”

Nanase stares somberly at the swirling clouds above, entirely entranced. He flips over to face Sousuke, who blinks to find Nanase close enough to whisper low. A sense of deja vu overcomes him at the words he had thought not too long ago.

“I found my answer a long time ago. Can you change it, Yamazaki?”

 **xXx**  

Trimming the stems with practiced precision, Makoto’s mind wanders to many things, those being his life before, with, and after Haru.

Makoto does not remember the last time he cried. It’s such a rare thing to expect from him now. Along with Haru went his ability to easily succumb to strong emotions like fear. To harden his resolve was to harden the armor around the missing place in his heart.

After an extended period he had wept himself to sleep so many nights it made his family worry. He thought he shed enough to be worth a lifetime.

His tears had lessened when he had visited one of the various places special to he and Haru, this one in particular being the route they would take each day to and from school along the shore.

They would communicate to each other, with him doing most of the talking and Haru responding with minute expressions and short answers. As they spoke, they would watch the water glitter colorfully and the stars twinkle and blink out of existence, as nonsensical as the little game they participated in silently, playfully trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

The time he spent alone and with guilt was so lightless and cold, like the ocean that Haru loved but would not swim in as long as Makoto remained fearful of it. He had wished something, Haru’s reaching hand, would come out of the dark and grip his own waiting one to pull him up to the sight he had seen the summer before, when Haru had requested Makoto to give himself to him while they swam together alone in the school pool. He had proceeded to sink to the bottom in embarrassment.

The special day was sakura pink, a shade lighter than the near transparent blush dusting Haru’s cheeks.

The sky was in the middle of transitioning from day to night when he had reached the beach. In the distant horizon was the fuschia and orange of sunset and on land the dark shine of the town lights. Makoto had collapsed on the divide between street and sand as he relived the memories of that place with his head in his arms.

Makoto remembers the sudden impulse to challenge something and remove himself from his comfort zone, if only to forget even a moment. And what greater challenge was there than the open water before him?

He had slipped off his sandals, reveled in the coolness of the eroded earth on his toes, then rolled his jeans up to his knees.

He had stood before the receding tide, mentally preparing and reminding himself that nothing would pull him under and take him away. It was only his imagination and an irrational fear, one he would overcome.

The chill didn’t deter Makoto from stepping out further, nor did the sensation of wet unknown things brushing his calves stop him until the water threatened to submerge his thighs and soak his clothes.

He had blinked up as a ray of light peeked out from the top of a passing cloud. As he squinted, he thought he saw something bobbing in the waves.

As his vision was subpar at best, he had trouble discerning if it was a person or a buoy floating far out where the drop off was. Makoto had raised a hand to shade his face to better see until the object decided to dip and disappear to his disappointment.

It then re-emerged and jumped out the water in a perfect arc and a flip of a tail. Makoto can recall in exact detail how it had seemed to happen in slow motion right before his wide eyes.

Fleetingly, he had thought, _mermaid_ , and as he took in the beautiful creature, corrected it to _dolphin_.

The moment returned to normal speed as the animal fell and was enveloped by the sea once again with nearly no audible splash. It was as if it had never performed such an awe-inspiring act in the first place.

The time and location had caught up with Makoto as he looked at his watch and spun around to shallow dry land. He had cast one last glance, the image of the graceful dolphin vividly imprinted in his memory.

He had gotten what he wished for, a unique sight he had never seen before.

Only, it wasn’t the sight he _wanted_ , but was grateful to see nonetheless.

On that day, he learned hidden in his fear harbored beautiful things that would thrive in it, like the messy soil of his mom’s backyard garden with its worms and bugs teeming within as surplus as the plants she grew. It was also the day he had an inkling of what he would rather major in than teaching, as learning to be a swim instructor would always remind him of Haru.

As his mind is brought back to the present, he looks back at the past few years and realizes he has survived this far because he had been so busy in university, working to come up with the money to purchase the shop, and establishing connections for business.

So, really, Makoto hadn’t made any progress at all. He had managed to outrun his fear.

Makoto looks to where Yamazaki-kun is stacking boxes and wonders, why him?

Out of all people, he had to choose Makoto, the ordinary person who has no romantic experience whatsoever. Yamazaki-kun must be popular with girls, even, guys, too. He’s young and healthy and handsome…

Yamazaki-kun turns around to see him looking, and Makoto has to glance away as he feels the heat rush to his face. The other man stands to face him.

“Um, Manager…” Yamazaki-kun cuts himself off to stare at the ground and bite his lip nervously.

“Yes?”

If Makoto was reading this right, does the brunet almost look...shy?

 **xXx**  

 _That guy doesn’t know when to quit_ , Sousuke mutters in his head as he glares daggers at the floor.

“What is it?” Manager asks again, his eyes hidden behind Nanase’s clasped hands.

Sousuke stumbles over his words. “Do...do you wanna go out with me again? For dinner. This time, wherever you want to go is fine.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Sousuke waits for an answer, a rejection, anything as he keeps his eyes to the floor, refusing to meet Manager’s inquisitive gaze.

**xXx**

He’s not looking at Makoto, perhaps because he _is_ shy or self-conscious in taking the first step.

Such a quality coming from a well-built six foot tall man isn’t too bad.

“Sure.”

Yamazaki-kun startles and looks up at him in surprise, as if he never expected Makoto to say yes. His eyes relax to their usual down-turned position, ever hopeful, and he smiles gratefully.

**xXx**

_I win._

Nanase is gazing at Manager in wide eyed disbelief.

Score one for Sousuke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from my mourning period of the ending of F!ES. Also, I have been quite busy recently, so I might stick with posting chapters every two weeks (this three week period is an exception). What brought me through to completing this chapter was this [album](http://sheofficial.bandcamp.com/album/journeys) by my favorite artist.  
> Alas, I feel like doing little excerpts separate from the main story in the chapter summaries, give you all a glimpse of other things going on. I'm also writing other things that came to me spontaneously from other series, so know I'm here but gradually working on making the chapters of this fic as quality as I can. That goes for this chapter split into about three parts? Expect them soon.


	6. Interlude: February 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Congrats.

_February 2nd, 20XX_

 

_Hey,_

 

_This letter may have taken years to write, but know that I have been thinking about apologizing to you every single day._

_Things were kind of hectic on my end. I bet Captain Seijuurou told you about it._

_Anyway,_ _I didn't have the nerve to ask for your number. I don't think Captain would have minded, but I don't want to bother you two during such an important time._

_I haven't spoken to you in years. There's no excuse for that. I'm a coward._

_By now, I'm probably gone from Samezuka out into the countryside. As I recall, I think this was your hometown before you went to university? I scoped it out recently and it's a whole different sight than the city. The stars are amazing._

_I plan to visit the graves once I officially move in. Both of them. I want to talk to him after being away for so long. He deserves more than that, but this is all I can give to him right now._

_Hey, is it true that the men in your family always return to the ocean so young? It seems like it. I remember being told by one of your relatives that it was the ocean's curse for an inhabitant of the sea turning into a man of their lineage. That one always gave me chills and kept me up at night._

_Is this bringing up bad memories? Ignore my bitterness. Yeah, I love him, too._

_Sending you this the old fashioned way may be out of style, but I chose this method because one) I'm not brave enough to face you, and two) I want to genuinely convey that:_

_I'm sorry for not attending the funeral._

_I'm sorry for cutting all ties with everyone after he left the first time._

_I'm sorry for not being there to be one of the shoulders for you to cry on._

_(Both of mine are wrecked, anyway. Too morbid? I'm only trying to make light of this situation.)_

_And also, I'm sorry for not being there to stop him. He'd always been weak to people who need him. I still don't know what he saw in that guy, whoever he was. He did so much for him, it's like he was in love._

_Actually, I'm pretty sure it was a one-sided crush._

_My point is, make sure to drop by whenever you're in town and text me at the number on the back to let me know when you'll be coming. I'll be glad to see you again._

_Oh, and I heard from your proud husband just a minute ago about the great news while I was writing this. He said everyone at the station should celebrate ASAP. (Don't worry, we didn't. We wished him off to the hospital with all the fanfare we could legally blast at three a.m.)_

_Congrats on the baby, Gou._

 

_-Sousuke_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would advise curious readers to visit my kinda new [tumblog](http://kamufic.tumblr.com/) for any private spoiler-y questions, and to check out my [compiled list](http://kamufic.tumblr.com/post/100125435302/a-compiled-list-of-important-unstated-and) of unstated facts for this fic. The official tag for it will now be found under #tsfsr fic.


	7. Are You A Voyeur? (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru stares as they tease and joke together below on the open, dark street. He isn't happy to see them go.  
> It's been years since he last saw Makoto let down his guard and take his chances with someone.  
> He doesn't approve of Yamazaki at all—  
> That uncut half-long hairstyle looks absolutely terrible on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D-d-d-d-dirty mind.  
> (Warning: for the squeamish, please press Ctrl+F and type in "It was, in fact, illegal" to skip ahead of the imagery heavy flower-esque scene.)

He’s staring at Manager’s lips from the side as he consumes the ordered gyoza, and he gulps down an extra glass of water each time the other groans in delight at the surprise flavors on his tongue. Sousuke is obviously ogling when they’re outside the restaurant as Manager Tachibana stretches and a flash of skin peeks out from the line between his belt and striped shirt.

He looks good in casual clothes, real good, in place of the standard color polo and khakis he wears daily for work. The days he dresses in jeans are...well.

Let him put it in a simpler way—if Manager's appearance in form-fitting anything was his favorite delicacy, Sousuke would definitely want a piece of that.

Let’s not even talk about when he forgets to put in his contacts and comes strutting in the door sporting square-cut glasses, like first thing after Manager took his lunch break. Manager had then used his remaining break to clean himself properly for the rest of the day to Sousuke’s disappointment and Nanase’s silent triumph.

Those glasses should be goddamn illegal. Like tonight. Someone call the police — only he knows doing that would only bring more trouble. The amount of people who had called the Samezuka station for an “emergency” only to say a person was “illegally smoking hot and good-looking” on the dance floor was unimaginable.

“This shop is the best,” Manager comments conversationally with a sigh, bringing Sousuke out of his nightmarish third shift memories to spot a content smile gracing his face. “The food is always high quality.”

“I saw it featured in a magazine when I first moved here. It’s famous,” Sousuke murmurs, eyes trained a little ways to the side of Manager’s face. Talking without looking at him would be rude and he isn’t up to the task of staring outright unless he wants to end the night blushing like a schoolboy with his crush.

“Oh, I think I know the one,” Manager says with a finger to his lips, brows lowered behind his perfect fashionable hipster cool glasses as he tries to recall the exact article. “I’ve been going there long before that, though.”

On the dark path along the shore to their respective homes, they walk side by side, occasionally brushing hands at how close they are. With each touch, Sousuke feels Manager flinch and withdraw shyly. He gets gradually more annoyed at the increasing space between them.

At his breaking point, Sousuke decides to just roll with it and get the question out there. What more could be done instead of postponing it, anyway.

“Have you thought about it?”

Sousuke tries to sound casual, but it comes out in a hushed whisper, barely audible. Somehow, Manager hears it.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, understanding what Sousuke was trying to ask. “My question is, have you?”

Sousuke stops and stares at his back in confusion. Manager continues a few steps until he realizes Sousuke isn’t following him, then turns to face him questioningly.

Sousuke lowers his eyes, maybe taking what he said the wrong way.

“What do you mean by that? Do you doubt my feelings?” he asks him.

“Well, yes,” Manager awkwardly stammers. Sousuke's head snaps up as he fiddles with the hair at his nape nervously. “Have you considered what you’re getting into? This lifestyle isn’t exactly something everyone views lightly.”

“Not really,” Sousuke admits. Other people’s opinions of him never concerned him until he became a cop, and even then, it was only the ones at Samezuka that mattered. They were all surprisingly an easy going bunch for modern city-born folk. “It’s no one’s business who I like. Things like that didn’t stop me from dating guys in the past.”

“Really?” Manager’s eyes widen and his mouth falls slightly open, and Sousuke realizes he accidentally let slip too much information.

Crap.

“I won’t cheat on you or anything, that’s what I meant,” Sousuke clarifies quickly, in case Manager thought he was loose or a player. He cocks an eyebrow when he hears a small sigh from the florist.  “I’m surprised you have so little faith in me, Manager.”

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Manager assures, waving a hand dismissively. “You seem to be so experienced, Yamazaki-kun. It’s making me feel self-conscious.”

"Is that so?” Sousuke draws closer teasingly to murmur in his ear, surprised at how easy it was to get so near. “Is that all you’re feeling, Manager?”

Manager instinctively lifts a hand to cover his ear and strides away, hiding his face from him.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Sousuke catches up to him easily, sensing something he did had upset him.

Manager peers at Sousuke over his shoulder, his pace not slowing one bit.

“Don’t call me ‘manager’ when we’re outside of work. It’s too professional,” he says in what sounds like a _whine_. “Use my name or…”

Amused, Sousuke adds “whispering into Manager’s slash Tachibana’s ear” as another item onto the ever growing list of things that embarrass his beloved florist. He obliges his request eagerly, nonetheless. After all, it means becoming one step closer with him.

“Tachibana, then,” Sousuke suggests, rolling the name familiar on his lips and tongue. It might take some time to get used to. “Is that okay?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s strange, but the way you say it reminds me of someone I knew.” Tachibana scratches his cheek and chuckles shyly. “You both would have been great friends, with that same intensity and confidence. I wonder how he’s doing these days?”

The night is unexpectedly chilly for July. As wind gusts by, Sousuke stuffs his bare hands into his jacket pockets and leans closer to Tachibana’s warmth. His dark bangs blow across his vision no matter how many times he's tucked them behind his ears or clipped them back. The thought of Tachibana thinking of someone else when he’s in front of him ticks him off and adds fuel to the fire that is his annoyance.

“How mean. I’m right here, you know,” Sousuke reminds him, gazing off into the distance to look as wounded as possible. “Let me guess, an ex of yours?”

Tachibana, for the first time, makes the weirdest expression. It’s out of place for him who always has a pleasantly surprised or understanding air about him.

“No way! I’ve only been really close like that to Haru. Dating his rival would be like awkwardly dating my cousin,” Tachibana explains with a suppressed shudder. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

Sousuke would react similarly too if he had the option of dating Captain Seijuurou. From his text conversations with his wife, Captain is absolutely chill about her ogling other men, so long as they kept away from her, with exception of his younger brother, whom Sousuke has yet to meet. Sousuke, for one, isn’t the type to share with complete strangers.

“Yeah, that'd be...no, just no,” Sousuke agrees in dread at the thought of dating Gou and the terrifying shadows of guardians trailing behind her. He tilts his head and glances at Tachibana from the side. “So I’m guessing I might be the first after ‘Haru’, huh?”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Tachibana chides coyly, and Sousuke spots the white of his toothy grin in the dark. “I’ve been preoccupied with university and jobs to get the shop you work for, so relationships wasn't a priority.”

Sousuke hums lightly, unconvinced. “Okay, Tachibana,” he assents flippantly, making it obvious he doesn’t believe him.

Surprisingly, instead of laughing or smiling it off, Tachibana quietly succumbs to whatever he thinks of in these relapses that lead to moments of silence. Sudden as they are, he doesn't mind as they also give him a chance to observe the florist when he thinks he’s alone and no one is watching. They are by no means rude.

It’s rare for Sousuke to catch him like this, in contemplation and melancholy, a sad sculpture come to life while flipping over the slab of sorrow until it’s flat and ready to mold again into a greater piece of balled up grief. The brief emotion flickering in the slightest change in expression varies greatly depending on the chosen flower of the day, particularly if they are a certain color.

White for emptiness.

Red for anger.

(If Sousuke knew him at all, it was directed at Tachibana himself.)

Yellow for regret.

Purple for solitude and sadness.

Lastly, blue for nostalgia mixed equally with happiness.

Sousuke recognizes the half dazed look in his eyes; he’s seen it so many times in Nitori’s and his own in the mirror, in Gou’s and her mother’s. He’s watched it fade and grow at the mention of a special someone, the memories of them flashing behind their tired lids in quick recession.

In Tachibana’s case, he has always been tinged with uncertainty, the slight crease of his brow and the fractional down turn of the corner of his lips a discernible indication as he gazes unseeing at the shop entrance or a new batch of summer blue delphis, as if he was waiting for someone to strut in with the answers as to why he felt so lost, why he looked so alone.

“What are you thinking about?” Sousuke blurts before he can stop himself. His curiosity overflows as Tachibana slows his pace to stare out to the calm sea where the water is dyed violet from the last traces of sunset.

Sousuke observes how everything he does involving Tachibana has always been by impulse or by instinct. His terrible money making decision to buy flowers for a savings-draining few weeks, the choice to take the job opening, and the careless confession among the little things were unintentional and not his most rational uses of brain power. If Nanase was here, he would laugh at him or judge silently, intimidating with that no blink stare that read straight into his soul.

It takes a few moments for Tachibana to come back to him. He eventually draws his gaze to Sousuke and speaks.

“I was thinking how everything around me has changed. The town seems less bright and there are less people I used to know. The cats I took care of in high school are all grown and have kittens. My friends are hard-working students while simultaneously sparing time to love each other from opposite sides of the country. Haru's no longer in this world. Also...”

Tachibana pauses to glance at Sousuke and, when he finds him paying rapt attention, hastily averts his eyes.

“Never mind.”

For the strangest reason, Sousuke thinks Tachibana is blushing as he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head adamantly to and fro. The soft-looking hair laying on his forehead tussles a bit. His shoulders are hunched forward guiltily.

There’s something more he doesn’t want Sousuke to know.

**xXx**

Inwardly, Makoto is slapping himself at his own audacity to even procure the dirty thoughts he was thinking.

It’s all because of that coffee-induced nap early in the afternoon, a few hours after the brunet had asked him out. Thirty minutes was all it took and he was long gone into the dream world.

Makoto knew he should have taken that extra three hours of sleep when he saw the clock strike one last night while he was filling out the contract with their providers. Regret blared harshly against his forehead when he woke up at half past nine and rushed into the shop with his hair fashioned with multiple cow licks and his contacts stashed somewhere he couldn’t find, leaving only his spare reading glasses as a last resort.

There was no other context to read into his dream as it began.

In an open stretch of sandy beach, Yamazaki-kun stood gazing out solemnly across the waves, the sky a marigold painting against his shadowed silhouette. He looked like he was ready to go on a journey and wished his hopes and dreams to be safe south where they originally festered. A last trembling glance and he faced determined to the north where his potential struggles lay.

Here, Makoto's hands had materialized and things got weird as far as his normal forgettable dreams went.

His hands wavered hesitantly from behind as Yamazaki-kun flexed his arms in a practiced stretch. A peek of some dark material under his shirt covered the long expanse between his arm and neck. Makoto imagined himself shedding that black jersey of his to admire how it outlined the pronounced contours of his shoulder blade. The mesmerizing movement of his fingers caressing the smooth skin underneath captured his total focus.

He had brushed his nose against the exposed flesh and breathed in the scent of mums, and they would bloom from Yamazaki-kun's left shoulder as if the pale beauties belonged there. Lilies grew from his left hand and eye, and if Makoto plucked one, they would bleed a carnation red.

Rubbing his cheek gently against Yamazaki-kun's neck, Makoto had glanced down the center of his muscled chest and spotted forget-me-nots dotted on his sternum like freckles. Sweeping them up with one hand, in-dream Yamazaki-kun shuddered against him heavily, the blue burdens lifted from his lungs. He pressed his unmarred hand over Makoto's searching one and shifted to sigh breathlessly into Makoto’s ear.

" _Makoto—_ "

In dream and recalling in real time, Makoto gulps as the sensation of his name ghosts over his lips.

Makoto has always been a person who has communicated through touch, especially within his family and friends. When Nagisa said they had skinship, he couldn’t exactly deny it. He has spent time with them half naked, Nagisa’s multiple public nude beach strips and unabashed skinny dipping aside. Even with Rei in the locker room showers and a mysterious string bikini bottom had happened peacefully over the course of their three person friendship post-high school during their respective vacation trips in between university semesters.

He was certainly embarrassed at his friends' casual take on the incidents. Rei's only concern was being caught with such an unflattering piece of swimwear unfit for the sport, and Nagisa's was whether it was illegal to take loads of sand with his discarded swim trunks into their truck to dump into Iwatobi "for safe keeping and memories to be buried with" he had claimed.

(It was, in fact, illegal to be naked on a public beach, but a jar of sand was okay, according to Siri on Rei’s phone. So long as one didn't haul it across the country and cause problems with transportation security, Rei had clarified sternly, it was legal.

No, Nagisa could not take it home, that would dirty the interior of the borrowed vehicle and _no_ , Rei would not tie the ends of his own trunks to accommodate as a makeshift sand container, they were his only pair of stylish clothing he had at the moment.)

With parental concern, he and Rei both put in their efforts to convince him the idea was terrible. In the end, they allowed Nagisa to take home a conch shell instead.

Fondly, Makoto remembers how enthusiastic the pair had been dragging him across the country and showing him sights unseen and amazing. They hadn't said it, but they were hoping to distract Makoto and bring up his spirits a bit. During the same summer, they had announced their relationship publicly and admitted Makoto was the first one they wanted to hear, as it felt right to. Makoto wasn't surprised, only a little concerned as to why it took so long.

Makoto confesses he was a little envious of them. Anyone would be if they watched how adoringly they gazed at each other when the other wasn't looking.

The uncharacteristic shyness Nagisa displays when Rei compliments him.

The warm blush on Rei's cheeks as he listens to Nagisa chatter about anything.

Their relationship is one to admire, though they bicker as much as they are together due to misunderstandings and embarrassment on each end.

He's lonely after seeing other people experience intimacy and affection, even seeing it subtly with his parents. How terrible is that? Makoto feels guilt for wearing a smile when he would prefer care for his garden the whole day. It isn't right to push his self-inflicted loneliness onto Yamazaki-kun and hope for something like what Rei and Nagisa have.

Makoto doesn’t want to hinder him with his selfish wishes.

“Hey, are you...coming down with a fever?”

Yamazaki-kun peers at him in concern, as Makoto had fallen into shamed silence. He’s slighter taller than Makoto, so he bends his head forward to press his cool forehead to Makoto’s under his beanie. It’s funny, because who wears beanies in the summer?

“Geez, it’s for _fashion_. I would like to point out that red plaid shirt you always wear whenever you have the chance,” Yamazaki-kun says jokingly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Makoto hadn’t realized he had said that last thought out loud. Now he’s certain he might be too embarrassed to speak again. Ever. There’s a person in this day and age who would check for fevers with their forehead rather than the hand...

“Your ears turned red,” Yamazaki-kun relays in monotone, like a sports announcer observing the plays of a game. He peers at Makoto, analyzing him almost hungrily. “Ah, your glasses are fogging up, too. Are you that hot? We should get you home so you can get out of those layers, if you know what I—”

“I get what you mean!” Makoto bursts out tearfully, already hearing enough of the embarrassing monologue.

Yamazaki-kun doesn’t look like he’s finished though, as he opens his mouth to try to get in one last word with a growing smirk on those really nice lips.

But Makoto is done, and he comes up with the most stupid and impulsive idea.

In the history of Tachibana Makoto’s past mistakes of falling for setups by trickster god Hazuki Nagisa, this tops all of those, especially when he fell for the story about the blond being forced to move to the super continent of Pangaea. No one had told him until Haru had admitted guiltily it was all a joke, though he reprimanded Makoto for believing it so easily in disappointed deadpan.

_“This is why history is your worst subject.”_

He knows that he’s not the brightest bulb, but at this moment, there’s nothing he wants more than to make Yamazaki-kun _shut up_.

Makoto grabs the lapels of the other’s jacket and pulls Yamazaki-kun to him to abruptly press his lips to his chapped ones.

Both of their eyes are wide open and Yamazaki-kun is more startled than anything. It’s not romantic, more bruising with the press of their teeth through the sensitive skin, but it does things to Makoto’s heart he’s pretty sure isn’t because of fever.

After a moment, he backs up and brushes invisible lint off his shirt anxiously in distraction. Yamazaki-kun hasn’t moved from his spot.

“J-just...stop saying embarrassing things already.” Makoto feels dizzy and shocked he actually had the courage to do such an outrageous thing. “Good night!”

He takes off into a run, and it’s when he’s several meters away that Yamazaki-kun calls out and he knows he’s being chased. It prompts him to run faster. Makoto doesn't think it's a mistake he did that, but he's a coward when it comes to facing intense situations head on.

Was falling for someone supposed to be so adrenaline-pumped and physical? Makoto had hoped it was metaphorical, not _literally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration and motivation has come and gone fleetingly, lately.  
> The kamufic tumblog is always open to express your thoughts regarding the recent chapter.  
> There will be a part three to this segment.


	8. Are You A Voyeur? (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hears him crying, distantly and so sad. Even when he lost to him in freestyle, he had shed no tears.  
> Haru realizes he had done this. This time, he had made him cry, not the ocean.  
> His sobbing is closer now. He feels heavy and weighted down the nearer he gets. He pushes forward, nonetheless.  
> He sees him, at the far end of a tunnel. Suddenly, he's there and the numbness falls away. He feels as light as air.  
> "Makoto."  
> Clutching Haru's sketchbook tightly in his arms, Makoto had fallen asleep with wet tracks marring his tired beautiful face.  
> "I promise to watch over you always. I'll never leave you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back and ready to tackle this new Extra Episode. I can already feel it this coming March.
> 
> IRL has been crazy and motivation has been slim. I just needed a day out to experience some new things and I got that spark. Of course, I already had this written, but finishing it and proofreading? Nuh-uh.
> 
> Expect some new content. Might manage to eek out a few chapters before needing to take some time off and put attention to real stuff that really needs work on.

“You can’t just do something like that and expect me not to react in anyway!”

Sousuke pursues Tachibana all the way to his home as they are both huffing from the effort. Fortunately, Sousuke has built up more muscle than the florist who has only dealt with flowers for so long. He manages to shorten the distance and make it up the steps three by three as he jams his foot into the space between the frame and door before Tachibana slams it shut.

“F-! That hurts,” Sousuke wheezes as Tachibana continues to apply pressure. He does not want 70 kg of florist to cut off the blood circulation in his foot.

“I’m sorry, but please leave,” Tachibana squeaks out. “Sorry about your foot, too.”

“C-can we talk?” Sousuke’s voice rises an octave as he feels it go numb. “Please. I’m not mad or disgusted.”

Hesitantly, he lays off the weight and leaves the door wide open for him. Tachibana heads off toward the living room and sits down with his arms crossed sternly. What throws off the image are the skewed glasses and high flush on his cheeks.

It’s kind of...sexy? Heck, he never used the cheesy term for anyone. Past partners were always cute or pretty handsome to him.

Sousuke has got the case of this crush thing so bad, he could probably write pages of scoff-worthy sonnets to illustrate in as many colorful and simple words as possible how much happiness he feels whenever they’re together. Sousuke tells this to himself every day but oh, he just needs to get it drilled into his lovesick head for it to finally settle in.

The only thing to truly get him on cloud nine would be a proper answer from the person in question, the center of his affections.

“Okay. Serious talk.”

Sousuke sits himself in front of Tachibana to his wary suspicion. He places his hands in his lap to show he intends to keep his hands where they’re supposed to be.

“I like you. A lot. I’m sure you’re all I think about when I’m not occupied with work. Do you think about me?”

Tachibana glances away and whispers. “Yes. Sometimes.”

His heart feels like it skips a beat to his horrified dismay. Isn’t that only supposed to happen in dramas?

Whatever. There may be _some_ truth to them.

“That’s good. You must feel something, right? So tell me what you’re feeling properly. I don’t want to be mistaken when you keep sending me those mixed signals. Like that kiss.”

They blush as they recall it. Sousuke can still feel the warmth and tremble of Tachibana’s lips on his as he had gazed uncertainly and captivated into his eyes, the green wavering like he was about to burst into tears.

Ah, another discovery. Apparently, Sousuke is weak to pretty people crying. This might be a sign to his true nature, but this is not the time or place to confirm this.

Tachibana worries at his lip, that same uncertainty tainting his usually kind strong gaze. It's a bad habit of his.

He gets an idea.

Sousuke holds out a hand to him.

Tachibana stares at it like it might reveal the truth to the feelings he can’t find on the tatami mats. Or like it might contract a disease, or something.

“There’s nothing harmful about handholding, is there?” Sousuke asks. 

“No…”

He takes it. Warm, sweaty, and slightly calloused from toiling away at rough soil and uprooting weeds. It’s a strong hand that’s endured many hardships.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Sousuke smiles as he raises their clasped hands between them. Tachibana stares at it in bewilderment and awe. A smile begins to form and he bursts out into bubbly laughter.

“It really wasn’t. That’s kind of amazing, how it’s so easy.” He gazes at their hands warmly, and a touch bit wistfully, too. “Really, it is.”

Sousuke studies him silently. “I can give you as many handholds as you want. Just say the word, and I’m there," he offers.

Tachibana chuckles softly. “Even on your days off?”

“Even on my days off, or if I'm at opposite ends of the country, all the way on the other side of the world, it wouldn't matter—I’ll fly to you just to hold your hand.”

“That’s too reckless, Yamazaki-kun,” Tachibana says, shaking his head. “I won’t make you do that.”

“I know." Sousuke squeezes his hand once. "I’m just saying I would, if it’s for you.”

Tachibana looks at him, and there is a determined set to his brows.

"So if I told you to have sex with me, you would do it without complaint?" he challenges.

"Yes."

Sousuke doesn't even hesitate. He tugs Tachibana’s hand and pushes his chest to flip him onto his back.

The sight makes him gulp as Tachibana sprawls onto the mat with wide, startled eyes. His free hand lays flat near his head with the palm up, and Sousuke reaches for it so he’s holding him down. He does it lightly so as not to appear forceful.

Sousuke gazes evenly at Tachibana, determining if what he had asked was true. For all he knows, he could have been saying it hypothetically to test him, and Sousuke doesn’t want to do anything that would deliberately hurt him. Sousuke thinks Tachibana deserves happiness, and doing something like this without consent is shameful to him as a person.

However, waiting any longer would be torture.

Tachibana stares back at him, a little bit dazed at the sudden shift in gravity. After a moment of hesitation, he nods and turns his head away to squeeze his eyes shut, silently giving him permission.

Sousuke’s about to lean in and let him do as two adults who are _so_ in love did when they had free time, and then—

“What are you doing to him?”

The cockblocker of the century situates himself in the immediate path between him and Tachibana, thoroughly ruining the perfect moment.

“I’m here, if you forgot in your seasonal heat.”

Sousuke really does not need this right now, not when he’s _so_ close.

“I won’t let you do those kinds of things to Makoto.”

He doesn’t deny that he’s done more adult things than the pure and probably untouched Tachibana — doesn’t that do things to his insides at the image of an inexperienced and younger Tachibana hesitating for his first time.

“Like a rabbit in heat.”

Sousuke snaps, and all the contempt and resentment he’s harbored for Nanase comes rushing forth like an unrestrained current.

“I’ll take him and make him forget about you so his thoughts are solely on me, and then Tachibana will get over you as soon as if you never existed. You obviously don’t know what he wants; as a person belonging on the side of the living, I know the basic needs he has to have fulfilled. He’s miserable, but I can satisfy him. He doesn’t need a stalker of a former boyfriend anymore.”

Nanase doesn’t look upset. It doesn’t show itself as much on his face, but there’s amusement there of all things. He floats through Sousuke with a chill where he passes, causing him to shiver. He’s confused until Nanase passes completely through him and he knows with abrupt clarity the reason why he hadn’t responded.

Sousuke catches the most terrifying look he’s ever seen on the previously thought always benevolent florist’s face.

His expression is unpredictable thunderstorms personified. There’s no shyness, no gentleness, just white fuming rage.

“You set off his orca mode,” Nanase comments above him, as if it’s none of his concern if Sousuke would join him on his side of the living by the end of the night.

“Get out,” Tachibana orders. There’s no room for argument in his biting tone.

“Wait, let me explain…”

Tachibana interrupts him, even daring to click his tongue in annoyance. “I think I heard you loud and clear. Now get out.”

“Tachibana—”

“Are you going to go against me on this, in my house? Get. Out.”

He enunciates his words slowly, the rage fueling his eerie calm sending warning signals to back away slowly because Sousuke does not want the full wrath of an angel to descend upon him because of his impulsive stupidity.

_I fucked up._

As Tachibana forcibly pushes at his chest and hauls him toward the door, Nanase follows them nonchalantly.

“Makoto played basketball all throughout middle school and high school,” Nanase says randomly.

Sousuke looks at him and doesn’t have much of a retort to that. Does the guy think he won’t be back by tomorrow or ever by telling him last interesting facts about Tachibana?

“I would like to add Makoto was infamous as the number one fouler in the Iwatobi High first string. ‘The Orca’ was what he was called, I think.” Nanase gazes down his nose at him sympathetically. “I went to all his games. I helped him pick the get well flowers for the other teams.”

Cold sweat slicks down Sousuke’s forehead for all the wrong reasons.

_What the heck was this undiscovered dark side to Tachibana, his pure angel?_

His attention draws to the heaviness at his back. Tachibana is strong, that’s a given. Only, he hasn’t been trained to specifically handle people twice his size as a matter of course in his job description.

Sousuke digs in his heels before Tachibana can push him further, creating his best impression of a brick wall. It’s effective.

“Gosh, how much do you lift?” Tachibana mutters at his back. He’s huffing with the useless effort.

“150 kilo last I checked,” Sousuke answers, honestly. He glances over his shoulder at the struggling Tachibana. “That’s on a regular day, though. Do you want to know my three sizes, too? I can give you that.”

Tachibana gives up, like Sousuke knows he would. He had figured the florist isn’t the confrontational type of person, and he was right.

He turns away from Sousuke and leans his shoulder against the wall. His back looks tense and trembles slightly.

His timidness flicks a switch in Sousuke.

_I scared him. I pissed him off._

To his horror, the following thought crosses his mind.

_Has Nanase ever caused these expressions with him?_

Flicking his eyes toward the Roommate, who’s currently fingering the material of his jammers as if the problem with Sousuke being out of the picture was set, Sousuke goes in for the kill. Figuratively, that is. No time for dead jokes, now.

Sousuke steps in close and speaks low to Tachibana from over his shoulder so that Nanase won’t overhear. Yes, Sousuke caught on that Nanase hears less on his right. Anyone would think that health problems in a ghost's previous life would be solved in the afterlife, but it's all a mystery.

“I’m sorry for insulting and hurting you.”

Tachibana flinches but doesn’t turn around. That kind of reaction is fine, too.

“My feelings won’t disappear, unless you tell me explicitly to never see you again.” Sousuke shifts so that his back is facing Nanase and his arms bar Tachibana’s escape routes. “I’m serious. I’ll leave.”

“Then go,” Tachibana mumbles, the color in his face fading to a light pink. He refuses to look at Sousuke and instead stares at the opposite wall.

“Okay.” Sousuke nods. He’s getting the hang of letting other people’s wishes go their way. He’s not the one in charge. Well, for the most part, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Manager.”

When he retracts his arms, Tachibana’s relief shows in the way his shoulders sag and the breath he had been keeping quiet leaves him in an audible sigh. Nanase’s stare halfway through their exchange drills holes into the back of Sousuke’s head, but he doesn’t mind as much as he used to a moment before.

The difference is that Sousuke knows he has a chance.

On his way back to his flat, the glow of Nanase’s stormy gaze imprints itself on his mind. Deeper into the night, they transition into a gentle green like dew caught in the underside of tender leaves.

The dew evaporates into sky high waves and Sousuke struggles and calls out for a name he can’t remember once he startles awake at the acute pain in his shoulder. The syllables are like lead on the tip of his tongue but his head feels like slush, so he closes his eyes to fall into the embrace of a dreamless sleep.

The next morning all he can remember of last night is the dark red of the light hitting his eyelids from the open blinds.

He thinks he hears a familiar shout of Tachibana’s name. It echoes with anguish and desperation in a voice that can’t possibly have the capability of expressing such intensity.

Rubbing his eyes, he looks around his messy flat. He rests on the hydrangeas he’s been tending to the first day he started working at the shop. Next to it is his phone where the screen is bright with 2 missed calls.

The shout faintly resounds again, but this time he recognizes the wavelength and otherworldly filter like he was hearing it underwater.

There’s only one who would call out that person’s name like that.

“…Nanase?”


	9. Do You Even Know What That Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did you, Kisumi?

Haru can’t do a thing. He didn’t do a thing when he was alive, and he can’t do anything when he’s dead. He’s filled up with regrets from the past.

Leaving Makoto behind might not be the reason for his staying here, after all. He found that out recently.

“Makoto.”

Haru wraps his arms around Makoto seated at the table. He’s flipping through documents, Yamazaki’s resume in particular.

“Don’t worry about a guy like him,” he murmurs.

“This is so embarrassing!” Makoto exclaims. He drops the papers and puts his reddening face into his hands. “We’re the same age? And he looks like that?”

Haru frowns as Makoto falls onto the table with his head covered by his arms.

“Get up.” Haru caresses Makoto’s hair affectionately. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Makoto sighs and lifts the paper with Yamazaki’s profile image. In the picture, he’s smiling slightly like there’s a secret between him and the photographer.

“He’s so unfair,” Makoto says quietly, gazing at it.

Letting his hand lay back onto the files, Makoto nuzzles deeper into his arms. After a while, his breathing deepens and soft snores blow gently at the sheets.

“Wake up, Makoto. It’s not good to sleep here. Hey.” Haru tries to touch his shoulder. It passes though him. “Listen to me.”

With a burst of desperation, Haru throws himself at Makoto and ends up on the other side of him. He does it several times until he remembers that doing it might make him cold.

Haru’s hand goes to touch Makoto again, but he stops before he can phase through. He retracts his arm and grips it tightly. A heaviness settles in the back of his throat.

“Please. For me. For your family. For yourself, please…take care of yourself,” Haru pleads to his unhearing ears. “I hate this.”

When he was alive, he was less emotional than he is now. The him back then was restrained by the judgment of others and the discomfort of showing his embarrassing feelings. Maintaining his mask he kept in public is pointless when it’s just him in this place where he exists but none are aware of it.

Except for Yamazaki.

He floats next to Makoto and copies him, with his head turned to watch his sleeping face on his crossed arms. He’s as handsome as ever, having lost the baby fat in high school. Makoto's grown and a working adult. He’s significantly more sad and withdrawn than the introverted boy he was with Haru.

Reaching out, Haru pretends he brushes his fingers over the crease between his brows. He doesn’t notice the shiver, because Makoto mumbles out unintelligible words as he shifts to a better position.

“Yamazaki-kun…”

Haru flinches back like he’s been struck. He looks at his hand and back at Makoto. In the corner of his eye, a tear leaks out.

He watches it drip down Makoto’s cheek without blinking. There’s no use to blinking as he is now, but he does it because it’s become a habit. Only during times when he wants to capture every second does he keep his eyes wide open.

After two hours, Haru gives in to the drowsiness that’s been putting him under the weather lately.

He sleeps into the morning.

xXx

Haru wakes to the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground. His head shoots up from its resting position and he looks around frantically.

He isn’t beside him.

Another thud comes from the foyer. Haru flies toward it.

He lies on the floor with his cellphone fallen out of his hand. His face flushes red and he breathes too heavily for normal.

“Makoto!”

 

* * *

 

Sousuke’s intuition tells him there’s something wrong as he climbs the stairs.

It’s nine am when he should usually come in for work, but the shop shutters remain closed. Tachibana is always punctual, if not early about these sorts of things.

When he knocks on the door and no one answers, his instincts alert him to be cautious when it opens unlocked like he left it yesterday night.

He enters quietly, not even bothering to announce himself. Stepping over carelessly strewn shoes, he almost stumbles over the florist in the hallway to the living room.

“Tachibana?”

Sousuke falls to his knees and checks his pulse at his neck. It flutters quickly at his throat like a hummingbird. His skin also feels hot; Sousuke has to pull back his hand at how much he’s burning up.

Another thought occurs to him. He looks around and finds him curled up in the corner, a near exact image when Sousuke first saw him on the veranda.

Nanase doesn’t turn as he speaks. “The aspirin is in the cabinet in the bathroom. His futon is out already, and the keys to the shop are on the hook above the coats. Find Rei’s contact info in the brown leather book on the kitchen counter.”

He says it monotonously like he wants to do it himself. When Sousuke tries to process the barrage of directions, Nanase glares tiredly over his shoulder.

“Now, Yamazaki.”

The weak order pushes him to act quickly. Unlike if Nanase spoke to him defiantly, this kind of Nanase is strange. Sousuke feels wary around him in this mood.

Sousuke doesn’t know how to act around an unguarded Nanase who’s lost the fight in him.

After taking care of Tachibana, with addition to warming up soup to put beside him when he wakes up, Sousuke manages the shop in his place for the day.

Occasionally, during breaks, Sousuke asks Ryuugazaki to take over and he would climb the steps to the upper living area to check up on him.

Nanase would always stop him halfway with a “He’s fine” along with a short update about the state of his pallor.

“Makoto’s breathing is steadier.”

A nod.

“He woke up, drank some water, and fell back asleep.”

Thoughtful hum.

“Get back to work, Yamazaki.”

A snort.

Sousuke understands. If something major happens, Nanase would tell him immediately. He has no choice.

Sousuke acting as Nanase’s real world “puppet” unsettles him the more he thinks about it. He pushes it to the back of his mind as he waves Ryuugazaki off and clicks the lock on the shutters.

Right as he’s folding away his apron and spritzing the last of the display flowers under the night light, footsteps and a shadow fall from the back room.

“Yamazaki-kun?”

Tachibana leans against the doorway looking spent but better than he did earlier.

“Why are you here so early?” Tachibana asks, the fading fever making his eyes go unfocused. “I was about to tell you not to come if you weren’t up for it.”

Sousuke puts down the spray bottle and strides over to the unsteady florist.

For a split second, he hesitates putting his hands on him. The swaying man deters him from the notion and he wraps an arm across his shoulders to balance most of Manager’s weight on him.

“I got the message,” Sousuke says wryly. “Hard to stay home when all you hear is labored breathing on the other end of your voicemail.”

Tachibana blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sousuke chides. “You should have stayed in bed. Ryuugazaki just left and I locked up.”

“But…the flowers,” he protests. “The register?”

“Done and done.”

As they slowly climb the stairs one by one, Tachibana talks to him about random things, almost as if he were a drunk being carried home.

“S-Sousuke-kun, I had a dream about the ocean and a _lot_ of flowers, a whole meadow filled with blue flowers!” He laughs into Sousuke’s shoulder. “I’m scared of the ocean. Why did I dream about the ocean? Or was the meadow of flowers the ocean? Wait…”

“I don’t know, Manager.” Sousuke grunts because Tachibana is dragging his feet and letting him carry all of their weight. He’s close to shocked that the florist called him by his first name.

“I think it was because I thought I heard Haru-chan. It was so weird. I called Haru-chan’s old number, you know?” Tachibana lowers his head and whimpers. “I forgot they don’t have phones on the other side.”

Now would be when Sousuke starts to panic.

“Nanase?” He appears from the wall next to the kitchen. “Why’d you let him go?”

The Roommate frowns. “I…closed my eyes for a second,” he says in confusion. “Time flew by so fast…”

“Ghosts can sleep?” Sousuke exclaims while maneuvering down the narrow hallway.

“I don’t sleep.”

Sousuke sends him a bewildered look as he stretches Tachibana back onto the futon. He curls in on himself immediately. Carefully, he lays the covers onto him.

“He’ll be better by the morning,” Sousuke informs the hovering Roommate.

“That’s good.” Nanase gazes at Tachibana sleeping soundly, looking as comfortable as a kitten bathing in the last rays of light.

“Hey, Nanase?” Sousuke’s uncertain if he has the right to ask, but he feels he should rather than sum it up to imagination.

The Roommate makes a noncommittal noise, his version of a yes.

“Did you call out for the manager this morning? I thought I heard you in my sleep.”

“Who knows,” Nanase says. He considers Sousuke for a moment. “Were you dreaming about me, Yamazaki? Who do you _really_ like?”

“Please,” Sousuke scoffs, making fake retching noises. “Sure, you may be prettier, but my heart is set on this handsome dork.” Sousuke gestures to the snoozing person cuddling his pillows under the covers.

“True.” Nanase glances at Sousuke with a mysterious spark in his eyes. “I don’t think it would work out between us.”

“’Until death do us apart’, was it?” Sousuke follows up with a chuckle. He immediately feels bad about it, but Nanase doesn’t look offended.

Nanase continues to gaze at Tachibana, but he doesn’t turn fast enough for Sousuke to spot the miniscule shaking of his shoulders.

“Are you laughing?” Sousuke asks in disbelief. Nanase freezes and moves to the other side of the room.

“No.”

“Oh my god, you are.”

“I don’t laugh.”

“You also say you don’t sleep, and look what happened.”

The crackling silence between them stretches on while the elephant in the room snores away fitfully. They don’t move even when “Under the Sea” begins playing from someone’s phone, and it’s not Sousuke’s. For Nanase, there’s no need to confirm.

After a full minute of chorus, they glance over at the phone lying on the tatami mat near Tachibana’s hand. He hasn’t budged an inch and seems perfectly content to stay that way.

“I’ll get it,” Sousuke says rhetorically.

He picks it up, scans over the number, and is one reflex from dropping it onto Tachibana’s head.

“What is it, Yamazaki?” Nanase gives him a look as he silently judges Sousuke.

He stares at the singing phone in his hand, a little bit incredulous, “I know that you know that I’ve never met Tachibana once before coming to Iwatobi, and I know very well that things can happen,” Sousuke looks up at Nanase and shows him the screen, “but I _recognize this number.”_

Nanase’s eyes immediately harden like sapphires when he reads the call name.

Sousuke grimly nods and unlocks the screen to answer the call (Tachibana the trusting angel doesn’t even have a passcode on his phone), and addresses the person on the other end of the line.

“How did you get this number, Kisumi?”

xXx

“Aha, I thought it was weird that when I called Makoto for a game of ball for old times’ sake, he didn’t even answer on the second call! The poor guy fell down with fever after overworking too much, huh. Gosh, what a guy. His peaceful and red face makes me want to fall in crush with him all over again so I can nurse him back to health.”

Nanase and Sousuke sit awkwardly near the kotatsu Tachibana for some reason still has out, since it’s been summer for a good month now. Why Nanase has joined him at the table is not his most important concern at the moment.

“Kisumi,” Sousuke tries hard not to let irritation slip into his tone, “why are you here.”

Shigino Kisumi pauses in his self-induced monologue and glances at him, his hair bouncing in a way that can’t be natural but Sousuke knows it is because he’s seen it roughed up by his own hands early into the hours of the morning before he has time to consider escaping into the bathroom for product. Not that he even needs the stuff, but he's told Sousuke that he likes that it smells fruity and clean.

“Sousuke, when I heard you were at Makoto’s and working for him, I wanted to visit since I never have the time to see any of my childhood friends at all!” Kisumi exclaims. “It’s two birds with one stone, and it’s such a nice coincidence that both of my friends know each other.”

“Did it have to be now,” Sousuke bites out, refusing to meet Kisumi’s eyes, “at 8 in the evening when the trains don’t come around until tomorrow morning?”

Nanase looks between Kisumi and Sousuke as they speak. He’s in the process of gauging what their relationship is. The vague explanation of “Ex” Sousuke had thrown at him didn’t seem to satisfy him one bit.

“I didn’t like him when he hung off of Makoto,” Nanase had said when Sousuke asked how on earth _he_ knew Kisumi. “They were both in the basketball club while I was in the art club. Somehow, it became a one-sided thing between them. Makoto was too nice to brush him off.”

After Kisumi’s indirect confession of once harboring a crush on Makoto, Nanase’s eyes darken.

“I knew it.”

Kisumi props a hand on his chin and smiles, always genuine and well-meaning.

“Now for you, Sousuke. What are you doing here after hours?” Kisumi’s eyes light up. “Are you planning on staying over, too?”

Nanase swivels his head toward Kisumi with a look of pure contempt.

“No way. Just having one suitor is enough; I don’t need Mr. Model to trouble Makoto tomorrow.” The Roommate directs his pissed off expression at Sousuke like it's his fault that Kisumi decided to crash at Tachibana's place out of the blue. “Yamazaki, do something.”

Sousuke mutters quietly out of the side of his mouth, “I’m trying,” to Nanase. To Kisumi, “You know what, how about you stay over at my place? It’s only a few streets away and it’s just enough for one night until you can check into a hotel,” he offers almost reluctantly.

“Aw, but I wanted to see Makoto’s bedhead in the morning,” Kisumi says regretfully, but it’s all for show. He looks eager at the least. “Okay, but how am I going to get in?”

Sousuke weighs the pros and cons. “I’ll walk you,” he finally says. “I won’t stay. Manager needs someone to look after him.”

Kisumi nods in understanding. “Lead the way!” He grabs his bags and makes for the door.

Suspicion remains written all over Nanase’s face as he turns to stare at Sousuke when he rises.

“You better not cheat on Makoto.” Nanase pauses. The normal underwater effect on his hair and clothes is emphasized as the promise of his wrath becomes finalized. “Not that there’s anything between you two anyway. But I will not forgive you for choosing this guy over him.”

Sousuke sweats under his already sticky clothes.

_Whoever decided today was the day to deal with all my problems, must hate me a whole lot._

“I’ll be back,” Sousuke promises to both Nanase and Tachibana.

Nanase is already turned to the florist, silently emanating worry. He watches them briefly, the Roommate’s lonely back and Tachibana’s still form under the futon, before Kisumi calls out to him at the bottom of the stairs.

He's careful to lock the door this time.

 

 

There’s a question in the air between them as he straightens out his bed, manages his plants, cleans up the mess he had yet to take care of the past week, and puts out a list and spare key on his kitchen counter.

“What?” Sousuke asks, raising an eyebrow at the gawking strawberry blond.

Kisumi crosses the room and takes in Sousuke’s 1LDK with his mouth slightly open. “Nothing,” he chirps. “I’m very surprised at how homey you’ve become.”

Sousuke glances around his room too, which doesn’t seem as homey as it is a step away from being mistaken as carelessly clean.

“I think I’ve had more time to delve into my hobbies,” is all he says in reply. He points to the recently made bed. “This is all I have, so it’s yours for the time being.”

The other man flops onto it gratefully, and he turns on his side so he’s facing Sousuke. When Kisumi sees Sousuke glance away uncomfortably, he smiles.

“More time to love Makoto, right?” Kisumi suggests knowingly.

Sousuke tenses and turns on his heel to hide his burning face.

“How did you…”

“He’s definitely your type, and I know because I know Makoto.” Kisumi’s laugh lacks mirth. “He’s like Ai-kun, gentle and big-hearted, the type to love you no matter how much you hurt him. Kind of like you.”

His voice drops into a whisper, hushed and reminiscent.

Sousuke frowns at Kisumi over his shoulder, genuinely concerned because he and Kisumi never talk about feelings, not deeply, not even toward the end, “Why are you telling me this?”

“When it counts, you’re one of the realest people I’ve ever met,” Kisumi explains simply as his eyelids flutter shut, not quite answering his question. It’s only then that Sousuke notices that Kisumi is lightly flushed like he had been drinking. He hides it well, whatever he keeps behind that unfazed and easy going demeanor. “Your devotion to the people you care about is worth more than a simple grudge, even if I’m not worthy. 'Forgive but never forget' describes you...I think...”

“Is this speaking from experience?”

Kisumi makes a sleepy, unintelligible noise into the pillow. The message gets through.

It’s a bit painful to process, but Sousuke understands the man half-asleep on his bed a little more. In normal cases, this would be the time where they make up and tie up loose ends, but Sousuke understands himself, too. He’d start to care about him again.

_Don’t cheat._

He would never turn his back on this love of his.

Kisumi was sleeping soundly. Since he’s lying on top of the covers, Sousuke grabs the sides of the comforter and sort of wraps it over him. He’s aware of how much of a kicker Kisumi is in his sleep.

Kneeling by the side of the bed, he studies Kisumi. His hair, wavy and easily malleable, cascades onto the sides of his face like it’s meant to be there, not tossed carelessly by the wind and gravity. His light eyelashes brush the tops of his cooling cheeks, and if he were to open his eyes, his unique color would shine through like actual irises.

_Stop. Don’t get attached._

Sousuke sighs and gets up.

“Hayato,” Kisumi, tired and sadder than he had ever seen or heard, even more than when they had broken up, mumbles sleepily into the pillow, “I’m home.”

Sousuke pauses by one of the drawers near his desk, rummages quietly for his wallet, and heads out.

He almost forgets to lock the door.

 _Bad habit,_ Sousuke thinks as he walks out into the lightly misting night, _assuming someone would be there to lock it behind me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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